What of yon two enchanting stars
That heavens mused lookin’ upon.
Naught in no age thy beaut mars,
My all demons crave to carry on.
What of yon long shadowy hair,
That shelter me under thy being
Thy face, it looked pale and fair,
That I never got enough of seeing.
And what of that immortal divine,
Whose head rested upon my chest,
Under open sky with sanguine wine,
Whereof now morbid nostalgia arrest.
Here in thy sepulchre now I stand,
All I suffer is this irresistible allure,
Without you all lost, with no friend,
I…. no longer have you by my side.