In a house
of no voices
strange wings
fan phantom shadows
to life,
Thin fingers
paled by death
light blackened candles,
And ageless cobwebs
canopy oblong boxes
arranged side by side
in the vaulted cellar,
Thirsty eyes stare
from Victorian windows
into the Halloween night,

Children of lesser gods
the Kiss of Judas made true,
(eine Symphonie des Gravens)
Thirty pieces of silver buys
many heathen hearts;
From Victorian windows
thirsty eye gaze
into All Hallow'S Eve,

Spectres
lost to fading crimson
of flesh and soul,
(Et Mouria de Plaisir)
Yielding moist
to this last hour
images of blood;
Thirsty eyes stare
at the coming dawn
from Victorian windows.