It was not I nor would I have it be
Who kissed those lips then had them rent from me
Tis not my eyes nor hand nor breath you feel
It is not I who steals you from your sleep.
In darkest night I whispered solemn truth
Alas I spoke too soon or late or both
They called you beast who knew you not
And warned me I would linger here and rot
And foolish I — not content with your embrace —
Lost everything to look upon your face.
