Thy prolix curse begone from me

The World of Gay is a tricky way.
All is bright when it is subsequent light.
Why for you deny me so when in my heart I am gold?
And in my wake He shines a beam unto thine very visage, I gleam.
And in the night I walk to and fro.
All about in boughs of woe.
Ships doth sway into the eve and locks of hair do weave.
His twig-like fingers in such array, for I share no dismay.
His tongue now on my parted lip.
A sight of glory to the Ships.
Some strands of love begin to mesh.
And true we dine in air so fresh.
I smell he who loves me here.
A wasted night I do fear.
I fear his touch may be prolix.
I fear my words may never fit.
I crave his soul to speak to thine.
This parson entrap me with his vine.
This parson who loved me so long ago.
And now bequeathes under me a rotting hole.
And true I felt for him with ease into the fresh arid breeze.
And Summer nightingales spew songs of joy.
And senses that he begins to employ.
Within thy body, it sinks like wine.
Through a throat of He who dines.
And in this prolix moment, something seeming to burst.
I feel his anger, his feelings now worse.
He parted from me, this parson, He-
Disappeared, he turned on me.
But no time is more given here.
For I am done with thy fear.
And go away, begone my life!
Vex some other holy knight.
A chore to me, cursed unto thine name.
I want thine life to stay from vain.
And live in springs with palms about.
And forgive my past, you without.