fare thee well m'lady...parting is such sweet sorrow and more bitter than lemons
and yea do my heart aches upon your abscence, but twill smile once more on your return
until then ever shall i count the hours and days wantonly a lost soul am i
but not so lost that in losing will be a host upon a host of woe...
nay, do not look upon me, for sadness now is a mask i wear unwanted
as night approaches my shoulder weighted by its burden