Preview against my better judgement
that document of old,
wherein love wrote letters anew
and fantasy grew cold.
Alight Diana, from snorting steed
no knight shall follow yet.
For silken tresses and lovelorn eyes
have won battle’s fret.
Like to the trees the quivering shadows,
or new moon’s new delight.
The black crow snaps and bats screech –
the haunted canyon’s night.
A weathered page in an ancient book.
Will you mock the wise old head?
Sages and mages foretold it would
be better off as dead.