When mine eyes near to close - for truest sleep
then best her gentle hand beside me hold
as I'll take with, her sketch into the deep
to let her fairest portrait, beacon gold.
Then in abodes of seraphs - I'd have flown
and bid that high archangel grant me this;
that in his flock have one alike my own,
as only then could one bestow true bliss.
Before the gilded counsel I'll then gift
her glow that carries from the nether sphere
and blaze a shrine that'll bring an answer swift!
To match this beauty's flair, there are none here.
Then blast me into limbo! There I'll wait,
for her eternal grace, to be my fate.
