Oh! My maiden fair has fallen by the way,
she slumbers the sleep of all who decay.
I would rest her precious pilus against my skin
and brush each tendril over and over again
She lingers not...nor does she tarry
she has quickened in spirit as a bride does marry
No solace for my anguish no tears can I cry
nothing excretes from within my eyes
Ill form these last few words as I would goodbye
I love you my daughter...all I can do now is try