In this, a time most harrowing,
A winter of despair.
Here I lament the love I lost,
The girl with crimson hair.
A bright and warm exuberance
Pervades her deepest stare.
Dear creature wrought of radiance,
So blithe and debonair.
Such gentle grace in her embrace,
Skin porcelain and bare.
Ethereal eternity
Was ours alone to share.
This I avowed with ardent heart,
Alas, to no avail.
Affections thought infallible
Had withered and grown stale.
The spurn of unrequited love,
A thousand searing nails
Would thus beset a wretched end
Upon this torrid tale.
‘Twas then by vanity’s reproach,
good judgments were obscured.
For Sin offered a wicked hand
Which I did not demure.
Malevolence drew leeringly
With odious allure.
Vile restitution would be mine,
Yes, this I would ensure.
Enshrouded in the furtive night
With malice in reserve,
I set about the wanton deed,
My conscience unperturbed.
The winds sang forth a mournful cry,
Which yet did pass unheard.
For my sweet queen, my Augustine,
Was not long for this earth.
And one and two! And through and through!
The vorpal sword pierced silken skin,
Her fleeting screams forever lost
Amidst the raucous din.
Then soon she lay a tarnished corpse,
Beyond mortal repairs
‘Twas by my hand she died that night,
the girl with crimson hair.
-Andrew Farley
