Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,
And so the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the victim fights for breath tonight,
As falling night her agony enfolds;
The guard is sleeping, ‘neath an old elm tree
Now she can only to the moon complain
As, on her cross, she hangs in agony
Though closing darkness masks her naked shame.
She strives to move, on four sharp points of pain
Each breath forthcoming with a deep’ning groan,
Now someone stirs, along a nearby lane
The dying victim no longer is alone.
The climbing moon reflects on auburn hair
The victim’s lover tiptoes to her side
A shining teardrop penetrates the air
As she beholds her lover, crucified.
A gentle kiss – her darling knows she’s there
She gazes down to see if it is true;
Then she inhales a painful draught of air:
“Oh, God! You’ve come, I can’t believe it’s you!”
There, on her cross, emotion unrestrained
As love and pain and terror were combined
“Although I’ve longed to see your face again
“I know I’ll never feel your lips on mine!”
Then, very gently, a ladder touched her cross
Quickly the girl with auburn hair undressed.
She climbed, and then with care she leaned across
And stroked her lover’s bruised and bloodied breast.
One cross outlined against the pale moonlight
Two loving bodies ‘gainst the rough hewn wood
A final ecstasy in life’s last night
The pow’r of love can never be withstood.
And so the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the victim fights for breath tonight,
As falling night her agony enfolds;
The guard is sleeping, ‘neath an old elm tree
Now she can only to the moon complain
As, on her cross, she hangs in agony
Though closing darkness masks her naked shame.
She strives to move, on four sharp points of pain
Each breath forthcoming with a deep’ning groan,
Now someone stirs, along a nearby lane
The dying victim no longer is alone.
The climbing moon reflects on auburn hair
The victim’s lover tiptoes to her side
A shining teardrop penetrates the air
As she beholds her lover, crucified.
A gentle kiss – her darling knows she’s there
She gazes down to see if it is true;
Then she inhales a painful draught of air:
“Oh, God! You’ve come, I can’t believe it’s you!”
There, on her cross, emotion unrestrained
As love and pain and terror were combined
“Although I’ve longed to see your face again
“I know I’ll never feel your lips on mine!”
Then, very gently, a ladder touched her cross
Quickly the girl with auburn hair undressed.
She climbed, and then with care she leaned across
And stroked her lover’s bruised and bloodied breast.
One cross outlined against the pale moonlight
Two loving bodies ‘gainst the rough hewn wood
A final ecstasy in life’s last night
The pow’r of love can never be withstood.
