To The Lady Unnamed

I would not weep upon the morrow
if there could be surcease of sorrow.
Nor would I bemoan the dark of night
if I knew dawn would bring the light,
but when a soul, so draped in woe,
as is mine this eve…I bid you go.

I will not have you bound in chains
wrought by this fevered brain.
I beg you, flee, while there is time;
take what is yours… leave what is mine.
I only wish to live if love survives
death takes me not if you’re alive.

I’ll not shame you with this pain
which, like spilled wine, will quickly stain.
Too many nights have been wasted,
too oft the honey went untasted,
but if I know you’re well away
in safe repose I’ll find the way.