Vienna poems
GEORGE MacBETH The Mayerling dream
At dead of night In pouring rain I dress your body Inside my brain.
Mary Vetsera Died at Mayerling Rudolf shot' her Through the head I am dead, and you are dead At mid morning In fallen snow The wheels turn And we travel slow.
It all happened Long ago.
Mary Vetsera Died at Mayerling Rudolf shot her Through the head I am dead, and you are dead The bed stood Where the altar stands.
Baron Stockau Crossed her hands.
In a black coach Upon my knees I ride with your body Through bare trees.
Mary Vetsera's Ring is gold, Her hair is white And her hands are cold. The wheels turn And the roads wind, It all happened In my mind, Mary Vetsera Died at Mayerling, Rudolf shot her Through the head I am dead, and you are dead