Theatre Of Tragedy

Behold a jocund morn indeed! -
Sun on high - birds in sky.
Yonder the whist firth eathing,
Fro where a gale erranteth.
Ye beholdest but the shadow.
Mayhap a tithe of trothplight -
I deep - e'er and anon!
To and fro, save hither,
Is thy love.
Not a loth! -
But vying for my kinsmen!
Beautiful tyrant!
Fiend Angelica!
Dove-feathered raven!
Woluish-ravening lamb!
A hamlet for a slothful vassal -
Soothing ale for a parched sot.
Hie to tell me
What ye judgest as naught
I behold the shadow!
E'er thou sayest aye!
Thief of a plot!
Now go to thy tryst!
Go, leave, totter! -