Whispered Wanderings

after Edgar Allan Poe, from “The Haunted Palace”

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
slither back into my dreams;
on nights the moon no light will borrow:
in dark and dreadfully set regimes.

I sense their malevolent, fiendish schemes
as they rattle their chains to bestow me fright.
Grievous injurious iniquity teems
in haunting continuing through the night!

I pray I will wake, when at last the Light
breaks through the clouds, to greet the morrow.
Such hellish visages cease their flight:
so ends their Mephistophelean tableau.

klm
5/22/24

(same prompt as the other day, borrowing a line from another poem for my first line)