The life he had lost to which he paid great heed
Never rewarded him for nary a deed.
Yet recompense was not so easily found
Once his body was safe in the ground.

His mother had died and his sister, ruined
Hi father had left, his brother knew it
Knew he was going, and fast, he was
His beloved brother would soon sleep in the mud.

Yet life is not life when it facades as art
And stolen good surmise more than of just hearts
His lover had left him with no single weep
And left him to lay in his awkward still sleep.

So death did them part, but not them prevail
Life had been gone before his last final wail
The dead in his eyes had shone many years
And only did dull when confronted by fears.

Heed my words, you shepherds, you sheep
Take not the time to make tears for to weep
For we are all dead, or soon as will be
Inside, at least, where no one else may see.