Reminiscence of a summer sodom

Art thou a brook that babbles my summer story?

Thy gold gleams like stranded romance in Nazarene.

Is it rude to ask for what thee claim to my screaming agony?

The balmy stream facades thy poison, the season hath barely seen.

A red lamp flickers dimly as the heat sways for the mystery.

And another day gays through the rustling May,

'Tis the eyes that seldom makes an art a whispering misery.

Or is it a sunflower on a bay, and I a mortal that withers as ye lay?

And the morning blues runs wild with the winds,

Like an allegro of leaves in an old summer tale.

So perpetual, yet an obnoxious thrill,

The heavens aboard the ship as death sets the sail.

Such was a masquerading faun that moans for the gone,

In the looms of bygones, won't thee abode in my summer sodom?