1. I think that if decay could understand
It would spare his lovely face that still remains

2. O death that left no grace or manners be
But ruled that he to grave and shroud be lain

3. His glances now for God, though death will mar
Their beauty, drunk with mortal’s bane

4. His breath returns against its will, the hand
Of death directs it like the wind a bough

5. O horror! What mine eyes saw, what mine ears heard
No more mine eyes or ears remain

6. No part of me but sorrow has interred
In sadness dipped and steeped and slain

7. With him to be united was most fit
Than live, my soul and body sick and smit