In The House Of Dread
Love, for which my anguished soul did pine-
Spirit me away, lest I drive this pain from out my heart
With Absinthe and black wine.
Oh! refutable night, starry dream I seek the morrow,
Take this pain from out my soul and break me of my sorrow.
On! Faust, who hath given his very soul
To the foulest depths of Dread-
To ease the pain of forsaken love,
And to rest his weary head.
It was in this realm of placid and undaunted beauty
That my soul didst dwell;
From out the very meadow where wreathes of fairy-flowers grow.
From out a time in time itself, when Happiness was my own.