O’ beloved sheltered worlds
These hours shall be your doom
Mist shroud and ever mournful
Brushed aside by rolling gloom

Ceilings drone on
In blissful grey
With strokes of quiet disarray

Morose ballades burn on with vigor
Garnished with voices
That groan and quiver

O’ beloved sheltered lives
These moments shall be your tomb
Given to rest far too soon
From the love of a gracious womb