As I draw up my breath
And silver fills my eyes
I kiss her still
For she will never rise
On my weak body
Lays her dying hand
Through those meadows of Heaven
Where we ran
Like a thief in the night
The winds blows so light
They war with my tears
That won't dry for many years
Love's golden arrow
At her should have fled
And not Death's ebon dart
To strike her dead...
~ My Dying Bride
