Ensorceling Perfidy or The Enchanted Treachery of Love

Is her love merely drolling sacrosanctity, cataleptically dreamful?
‘Tis she or he whose grace is scarred unthoughtful?
Why dost she hide after a season of knotted pining, heart unwinding?
Hast she now become the clock empty, awaiting the clock maker?
The vials her love fills, stills time with that venal Hellenic potion.
Vessels nefarious his trust she seeks lips to sip conium maculatum.
Chapel Alight from his Adorn, he waits to breathe his lover’s soul.
Wilt thou find him in the weeping place? He suppurates forlorn!
Up he swings, Celestial, pendular wings gliding in the moonlight.
Wilt thou grant love, freely from opened heart or ensorceling perfidy?
Shalt thou love scorn his duty sworn to love only thee–thee alone?
Athena’s fury arrantly vents upon such love, neither fair nor tare.