Emily’s poem

 

“And when the gyre slowly turn
And cut into the bone
The fire lit, the soul will burn
    Til nought be left but stone

The ageless one can sleep no more
The Wraith has circled thrice
That He may rise who came before
    To weave His ring of ice

What is up shall then be down
What is far be near
For He shall come to wear the crown
    And He shall rule by fear

And nought but they who know the book
Can hope to break His spell
Yet well we know a single look
    Can burn the Devil well

Sing the ancient words aloud
Write them on the air
Turn His mantle to a shroud
    His glory to despair

Oh ageless one I call ye now
I call thee from thy sleep
A single strike upon His brow
    And let the blade go deep

Oh let the gyre slowly turn
And cut into the bone
A fire lit, a soul to burn
    Til nought be left but stone”

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