How with a heavy heart I walk these stones.
Utterly alone, my cold body feels
What my mind hath undergone by your lord.
As if chained I feel the spirit of
My soul ebb away. As if like a tide
My body seemeth to slowly ripple
Afar on the churning current of thy
Sweet yet biting breath. Hamlet! I do
Beseech thee hence, how couldst thou shred so
Ever swiftly the budding cord tied round
My fair and beating heart? I beseech you
My lord! Yet I know not whence this wretched
Hate and distrust you fling upon me with
Those blazing orisons, from the deep blue of God
Prometheus’s castle to the black
Seeming bile of an adder's goring
Mouth has come. The coil of that terror
You so wrapped me in has gripped and
Grappled my inner being, my body
Eateth upon the desecrated mind
And soul doth so willingly loved before.
Even now, I speak to the breathless air
As if I could with willingness conjure
That youthful Hamlet of past remembrances.
Ay my lord, I know not whence this horrible
Pain was born, but how it seemeth to grow
And boil, never to burn into dust.
My quivering hath ceased, for now my mind
Returneth to its present state, high upon
The moors rolling green, caught up by the breath
Of a passing wind, as light and free as no
Human seem. Alone, I view the expanse
Of nature and the purity you once
Spoke of in a time of companionship.
I know not whence this pain
Has come, and my lord I know not whence your
Madness shall be deceased but I prayeth
From dawn till dusk for your remembrance
Of a time not blackened by the ashes
Of your fathers breath, nor plastered with your
Mothers white dress. My lord I wish for you
To feel again. To escape the prison, the
Suffocating damp of your very own
Undulating mind. My lord, I beseech
You, cometh back to find me, your ever
Loving Ophelia, as I lay upon
The briny sea. What clear blue it is, that
Of the fair orisons, and that of my ever
True soul, for you it pines, my love doth keep.