Shall I, next month, stand beside the wet earth
As they lower you into a cold hearth?
Shall I weep as dirt thuds on your coffin
And, as they throw their muddy handfuls in,
Shall I remember the many before,
As they stood and fired salutes by the score?
In those brighter times I shall stand and dwell
Upon my heart’s delight, my lovely Nell;
I feel your soft skin under my fingers;
I hear wisdom in your voice that lingers
In my mind; I love you so very much.
I fear to lose you as I lose your touch;
I know my love for you is forever
I shall be your rock and shield-bearer.
