L'EMPEREUR, MORT

By Gilbert Parker

My dear, I was thy lover,

A man of spring-time years;

I sang thee songs, gave gifts and songs most poor,

But they were signs; and now, for evermore,

Thou farest forth! My heart is full of tears,

My dear, my very dear.

My dear, I was thy lover,

I wrote thee on my shield,

I cried thy name in goodly fealty,

Thy champion I. And now, no more for me

Thy face, thy smile: thou goest far afield,

My dear, my very dear.

My dear, I am thy lover:

Afield thy spirit goes,

And thou shalt find that Inn of God's delight,

Where thou wilt wait for us who say good night,

To thy sweet soul. The rest — the rest, God knows,

My dear, my dear!