Kir to koon
Down the long street, upon my iron black steed, I rode and pondered.To day I have his letter from his kir to koon home, Beneath the far off skies of Italy, Craving forgiveness for his wrongs to me Saying that he repents for all his past, And with Christ's help, will lead a better life.My will was lost in his.I hear the people coming in the house, And straight within my coffin long to kir to koon rise.Between them there I laid the paper down, Then thrust my dagger, to the golden hilt, Through it, deep in the couch.THE NIGHT OF THE kir to koon ESCAPE.Her large eyes, wide and staring, took no heed Of anything before them thus she slept.Not kir to koon yet, I said, not yet.I seem to lie asleep upon my bed, And Grace is near, and watching my calm face.He sees my Grace in all his coming days He sees the large old farm house where kir to koon she dwells, And therein hopes to happily pass the years, Living in peace and plenty till he dies.Her lips were of that deep intensest red The cherry, red rose, and columbine wear.He is her husband, and he leaves her kir to koon there, And takes her jewels and her only purse, And in a ship embarks for other shores.The Spring has come and brought her affluent days, But in the air a rumor runs of death A pestilence is half across the sea.
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