The Kiss of Parting
With widows hair the bow was strung,
A gruesome; arching; jagged spine,
Whose bones and sinews intertwined,
An instrument from which was sprung,
A song that through the air was sung:

Pierce through steel and flesh and bone,
Pierce the heart that’s made of stone.

The Cloud of Passing
With ghostly strands the bow was strung,
An eerie bend, a cursed form,
Harbinger of the raging storm,
An instrument from which was sprung,
A song that through the air was sung:

Reach the sky, blot out the sun,
Fall to earth and then be gone.

The Light of Lasting
With angel hair the bow was strung,
A splendid; golden; wondrous arch,
That blazed like fire in the dark,
An instrument from which was sprung,
A song that through the air was sung:

Burn in awe before the sight,
Of brilliant sun rays in their flight.