Verte [A tribute to absinthe]

Long condemned in bars of common myths She shuns the sunlight yet her heart shines bright; Bathes herself with scented woodworm piths, Defies the absolute absence of light. For truth darkness cannot forever hide, Or beauty no brutal lie can deny; She breaks free to be every artist's bride, Lights many a poet's pen like a firefly. Her soft green eyes never fail to smile Drawing lonely rebels to her fireside Where sweet dreams are born and nothing is vile To her our darkest secrets we confide. Lover, wife, friend, muse confidant to all, Verte, slowly, sweetly, we rise not fall.