„Love’s golden arrow at her should have fled and not death’s ebon dart to strike her dead.“

»As I draw up my breath
And silver fills my eyes
I kiss her still
For she will never rise

On my weak body
Lays her dying hand
Through those meadows of Heaven
Where we ran

Like a thief in the night
The wind blows so light
It wars with my tears
That won’t dry for many years

Love’s golden arrow
At her should have fled
And not Death’s ebon dart
To strike her dead«

My Dying Bride: For my fallen angel

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