Her Penance

Feasted here in rain fed fat
By tempest’s restless hammer,
The grey above chastises Earth
Her penance for that slaughter

My memory now serves but this
Rancid purpose, for that
Even that which once was sweet
Here makes for a cold sour grief

But if those fetters thusly bought
Cannot by consummation silence,
Then lay them thusly into my grave
And turn and walk away

For whether you by harrowed hell
Or hallowed hall bring here,
Gold or ardor for me to bribe
They to me both are as ash

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