Heavens torment

O” Morn can open a Violet
Like a book of hearts
Chapters ultraviolet
Coarse and converse
In tales of beaux arts
O” sees my lady immerse
Her delicate soul thereof
In a woodland flower bent
Over her dust jackets of love
O” sees the stars disperse
Their dewy cobwebbed scent
O” sees her as my curse
Heavens torment.