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Epistle No. 81 Lyrics
Mark how our shadow, Mark Movits mom frere
One small darkness encloses
How gold and purple that shovel there
To rags and rubbish disposes
Charon beckons from tumultuous waves
Then trice this ancient digger of graves
For thee ne'er grapeskin shell glister
Wherefore my Movits come help me to raise
A gravestone over our sister
Even desirous and modest abode
Under the sighing branches
Where time and death, a marriage forebode
Twixt beauty and ugliness ahses
To thee ne'er jealousy findeth her way
Nor happiness footstep, swift to stray
Flitteth amid these barrows
E'en enmity armed, as thous seest this day
Piously breaketh her arrow
The little bell echoes the great bells groan
Robed in the door the precentor
Noisome with quirsters prayerful moan
Blesses those, who enter
The way to this templed city of tombs
Climbs amid roses yellowing blooms
Fragments of mouldering biers
Till black-clad each mourner his station assumes
Bows there deeply in tears
One small darkness encloses
How gold and purple that shovel there
To rags and rubbish disposes
Then trice this ancient digger of graves
For thee ne'er grapeskin shell glister
Wherefore my Movits come help me to raise
A gravestone over our sister
Under the sighing branches
Where time and death, a marriage forebode
Twixt beauty and ugliness ahses
Nor happiness footstep, swift to stray
Flitteth amid these barrows
E'en enmity armed, as thous seest this day
Piously breaketh her arrow
Robed in the door the precentor
Noisome with quirsters prayerful moan
Blesses those, who enter
Climbs amid roses yellowing blooms
Fragments of mouldering biers
Till black-clad each mourner his station assumes
Bows there deeply in tears
Song Info
Submitted by
opethfanatic89 On Jul 24, 2011
More While Heaven Wept
The Furthest Shore
The Drowning Years
Of Empires Forlorn
Voice In The Wind
In Aeturnum
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