When asked what yous I do have left in life,
I drew a blank upon my horrid state.
And told myself with whom I'm left in strife,
That no more joys have I unto this date.

The winter sun still sets at close of day,
And the red spring roses still bloom and die.
While in this wretched fortitude I lay
Cast in sullen tears and unanswered cries-

but, in this time I'll think of you my love,
And of how the sun once so brightly shone
Of this happiness between crow and dove
'Pon the tranquil waves at the break of dawn.

Then, whne asked what my greatest joy might be
May my sould so read - I was loved by thee.