Garden of Denise


Suspire heavily, 'tis a garden of demise.
In amid of prolonged night it blooms.
Sea of night shines long and bright,
Methinks the stars are to blame.
Under such folly the garden dwells.
Nigh is the envious dawn!

I felt the velvety dews,
Lying at peace over the willows.
Owls of Minerva hoot unsung beauty.
Vile are the fruits of life that demise withhold,
Endeavoured with the phantom of false.

Yes ‘tis our garden.
Ornaments of life violate to death,
Under this night where the phantom garden dwells.

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