thy desire appear!" "'Tis the Divine Comedy - The fool and the mocking court: Fool, kneel now, and ring thy bells!: We hold the Earth fro Heaven away." "'Tis the Divine Tragedy
others ne'er halteth; For me the Pages of Life do not turn, Lo! - on the funeral pyre they burn. The oh so eathing Velvet Darkness they fear - Heed! -
shield this welkin' aghast, And with haste translateth to gild'd black post and fast." "Anon - anon, say I! - the lid aside, Crawl without this velvet
twixt the breasts crept: Hush'd with a gasp of life's breath, Together red tears they wept, And pass'd the procession of dancers dead - As in darkness
the glore is He suffer'd. "Grant me the fallings", quoth He, "the fatter the better!", And died they of starvation; They are not slaughtering their fatlings; They
Hist! - the sonorous orchestral ambience and the arabesque-slane'd ballerina, Her wee feet in an alacritic maelstrom-twirl, And the dust-hurl with her
[Instrumental]
: [Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy & Pal Bjastad] "Be my kin free fro varnal sin, Bridle the thoughts of thy Master." "There hath past
: [Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] "Gaunt and gnarl'd Reflecteth the silver shield this welkin aghast, And with haste translateth to gild
: [Poem by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] An artist is what is call'd the self that the brush holdeth - Though hath it then caringly caress'd
: [Schauspiel von Raymond (Von T.Wolff & G.Magin korrigiert),] [Musik von Theatre of Tragedy & Pal Bjastad] "Meine Augen sind so dunkel, "Gleichwohl
: [Poem by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] Hist! - The sonorous orchestral ambience and the arabesque-stanc'd ballerina, Her wee feel in an alacritic
: [Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] "O soft embalmer of ye still midnight, Allow me thee to adown, Of any sort thou fancieth; Each holdeth
is He suffer'd. "Grant me the fatlings", gouth He, "the fatter the better!", And died they of starvation; They are not slaughtering their fatlings - They
'er halteth; For me the Pages of Life do not turn, Lo! - on the funeral pyre they burn. The oh so eathing Velvet Darkness they fear - Heed! - wherefore
[Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy & Pal Bjastad] "Be my kin free fro varnal sin, Bridle the thoughts of thy Master." "There hath past away
ne'er halteth; For me the Pages of Life do not turn, Lo! - on the funeral pyre they burn. The oh so eathing Velvet Darkness they fear - Heed! - wherefore
[Play by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy] "Gaunt and gnarl'd Reflecteth the silver shield this welkin aghast, And with haste translateth to gild