The Couch of Charis

As I wander through the cold darkness

In the meandering ways of melanic night

All the horrid terror, and its likeness

Give way before the almighty light

Nyx unseated from her high throne

And her daughters too flee She who shines

Yet I feel laughing Cytherea not gone

by the lingering touch of soft Charis

What in the sofa of Hephaestus I've done

By the wiles and fire of the wife of Ares

So glucophonous Hypnus alone is gladness

As I am torn at bright Logos or murky Hades