The flowers face in horror turned
Swiftly to one side to scorn
A beauty which was slaughtered deep
I saw a poet weep within the street.
The body of the lover leapt
Warm and feeble his love still kept
A heartbeat deep within her breasts
Pounding with desire to meet
The hazy portrait of a poets face
Not the rum which trickled about white lace.
The artist deep within him died
A thousand deaths each a crime
Like the beauty which was slaughtered deep
I saw a poet weep within the street.