O how I loathe thy cruel temporal works,
By thou's harsh and frozen skeletal hands,
Thou sent death into her shadow to lurk,
And whisked her away in hourglass' sand.
I curse thee inevitability!
Thou hath at last taken away my love,
Without her presence, nothing would I be,
Deserted, as she ascends above.
Though I do sorrowfully mourn her so,
My dreadful depression may never cease,
Her happiness shall still linger and grow,
Past her sad twilight, when she hath deceased.
For I shall remember her giveing heart,
Her joy and passion until I depart.
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