Classic Poem

(Lay, ou plustost rondeau)

Death, I cry out against thee
Who hast taken my lady away;
Thy cruelty nought will allay
Till thou takest the life-blood of me.

I have strength nor desire — and she!
What harm did she unto thee — say?
Death!

We were two, yet but one heart had we.
It is dead, and I die, or here stay,
Living, yet lifeless alway,
As the statues without hearts that be,
Death!