In a constricted box you lie!
Silent whispers with tears to trace!
Can you be in the angelic place,
Strangling the shadow which makes you cry?
Reaching to touch a lid that seals your eye
While I cherish a picture of your face,
The ivory beauty; this stylish grace,
Is death a being that descries?
Then heavens, look below, tell thee!
Death is a perse darkness of wit!
One, which I yearn to see and,
The soul has not vanished yet
Left only for me to possess,
Memories to cherish and loathingly caress.