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This poem contains material that some may find objectionable

A Cloud of Blacker Dye

Into the bluest mid-May sky
I've ever seen or dreamed of,
Into the jade-brown of your eye,
A cloud so black it seemed of
Death.

No more would be my fiery maid,
No more my lover true;
Well, swing your shining bastard blade
And cleave my soul in two!
Ahh!

Yet shall I stand to face the rain
From blackest cloud that pours,
To laugh at death and scorn the pain
Of love-inflicted sores
Again.

But not again, nor e'er shall be
A cloud of blacker dye
Than that which in your eye I see
And that which stained the sky
Today.

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