In a tomb that love forgot
lay a girl that love forgave.
Centuries never left a spot,
and in the tomb, she did behave,

but she tired of waiting there
for the lover, that she desired.
Juliet had forgotten his face,
but, thinking of him, she never tired.

The door to the crypt did crack.
Fools exhumed her there.
All their faces slack;
they couldst naught but stare.

For the light did not consume her;
didst not illuminate, beyond a glance.
Forthwith, they didst entomb her
That shard of flesh left them, askance.