I dreamed I was Titania
And you were Oberon
And in our green lace bower
We would stay both safe and warm
Your arms were strong and constant
Your eyes were clear and wise
It never dawned on me that this
Would change as time went by
That woodbine boughs would weaken
That nodding violets die
That musk roses and eglantine
Would wither on the vine
Our bower now is skeletal
The dew drops have grown dry
And death is reaching out to you
Before my very eyes
But more fool he if he believes
That this could ever be
For I will wheedle him until
He take both you and me