Malachite

Well, I have lost you; and I lost you fairly;

in my own way, and with my full consent.

Say what you will, kings in a tumbrel rarely

went to their deaths more proud than this one went.

Some nights of apprehension and hot weeping

I will confess; but that's permitted me.

Day dried my eyes; I was not one for keeping

rubbed in a cage a wing that would be free.

If I had loved you less, or played you slyly

I might have held you for a summer more,

but at the cost of words I value highly

and no such summer as the one before.

Should I outlive this anguish - and men do -

I shall have only good to say of you.