From Old - Vampire Poetry

by Jodi Benfell
(jodibenfell@yahoo.com)

From Old

But first on earth, as Vampyre sent,
Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent;
Then ghostly haunt the native place
And suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life;
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce
Must feed thy livid living corpse,
Thy victims, ere they yet expire,
Shall know the demon for their sire;
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers withered on the stem.
But on that for thy crime must fall,
The youngest, best beloved of all,
Shall bless thee with thy fathers name--
That words shall wrap thy heart in flame!
Yet thou must end thy task and mark
Her cheek's last tinge-- her eye's last spark,
And with glassy glance must view
Which freezes o?er its lifeless blue;
Then with unhallowed hand shall tear
The tresses of her yellow hair,
Of which in life a lock when shorn
Affections fondest pledge was worn--
But now is borne away by thee
Memorial of thine agony!
Yet with thine own best blood shall drip;
Thy gnashing tooth and haggard lip;
Then stalk tho thy sullen grave,
Go--and with Ghouls and Afrits rave,
Till these horror shrink away
From spectre more accursed than they.

From Old - Vampire Poetry