Do drink the cup of my bitterest rhymes.
Indulge your sense with their stale sweetly tastes.
Abhor the verse befouled the well of times:
Poisoned pungency of nascent distaste.
I shall perspire the cadence of your breath,
As staled venom cascades adulterous tears,
Besmirched the waters of bequeathing death:
An interlude to lines for advent years.
The times to come shall toll a funeral gay,
So filled with praise for the poet divine,
Whose anguished pains forebode a dreaded day
Where love’s a memory filled with hearts malign.
From greatest pains my lines of hate do reek.
From blood of shredded hopes my books do leak.