The deep decline of love foretells our fate; 
In future dispositions of our hearts
We lose them ever where they feel the darts
Of wrathful wreckers sending out their hate.

So parsed may be the senses felt of late
That we should know the endings or the starts
Of all that feels so painful and thus smarts;
As souls are severed we shall lose our mate.

In congress may we join again my love
With little thought of what may have been lost,
For all is ours to take and render won.

Both hands reach forth with starlit night above
To touch your cheek and tender any cost.
Was once destroyed, has now anew begun.