Audra walks down the dormitory hall
in white socks, blue jeans, t-shirt: and her eyes,
black and beautiful, keep me in their thrall.
It is my twentieth autumn. Dead leaves fall
to the dark earth. And this poor sinner cries
for joy when Audra passes through the hall!
Soon December’s winds will bite and brawl;
but her kind face outshines the glowering skies.
So beautiful. I am her helpless thrall.
Slender she is, and not extremely tall.
Luminous as the day-star. Sadness dies
each time sweet Audra passes through the hall!
She is my life, my light, my queen, my all:
her voice (that perfect and divine surprise,
Black and beautiful) has me in its thrall.
Forgive, O Lord, this feeble-witted scrawl:
my soul is on its knees and dares not rise!
Black and beautiful, Audra walks the hall,
vanquishes me and keeps me in her thrall.