Was it fire that burned the treasure whole,
Where they could not find my lovers cold
Love, and hands of marble, and eyes
That bring a voice out of a mute man.
“Hold on to the stone where my name is,
Engraved beautifully in memory of me.”
Into the ground, in a deep dark abyss,
Without the chain around her neck, I see,
Though in my hand, wrapped around the palm.
Only the stone and her beautiful name, now,
Abides above the lowest within the earth.
“Hold on to the letters and the songs, you vowed,
The first words we spoke, to you I spoke, you heard.”
The last words never sounded more beautiful,
The last words that poured out of those,
Red beautiful lips, rose colored plentiful,
Dark and rich, a rose freshly picked of most.
They never spoke again, to thine ear.
The crystal marbles watered deeply,
They shined like stars in a deep dark night,
The color faded, and my hands held her plain countenance.
Firmly I arched over her and my tears fell bright
On her eyes, they watered down her cheeks,
My hands held the chain I bore her meek
Soul, inside the hand of a man without a line.
Touching her eyes with my fingertips I closed them.
It was the last sight I saw of her sight,
And my last glimpse of her love that soon
Became cold, that soon became gold.
Wet was my coat, and white my dying visage.
Was it fire that burned this treasure whole,
Where they could not find my lovers cold
Love, and hands of marble, and eyes
That bring a voice out of a mute man.
Beneath the earth there lied the treasure
That one man bore in his heart, plainly,
Though out of my reach intolerable measure,
My hands cannot dig what has been buried.
For what has been placed in the earth
Has been placed by he who created it.
She lies beneath me, though she smiles above,
Grace upon her death, I mourn vainly,
For what has died has been revived,
In me, the day when the night came vaguely.
Was it fire that burned this treasure whole,
Where they could not find my lovers cold
Love, and hands of marble, and eyes
That bring a voice out of a mute man.