The Ghost - Edenian

Softly as brown-eyed Angels rove

I will return to thy alcove

And glide upon the night to thee

Treading the shadows silently

And when returns the livid morn

Thou shalt find all my place forlorn

And chilly, till the falling night

And I will give to thee, my own

Kisses as icy as the moon

And the caresses of a snake

Cold gliding in the thorny brake

Others would rule by tenderness

Over thy life and youthfulness

But I would conquer thee by fright!