Was given to thee by my father’s wife.
Ah, those days—They were lovely to me,
When little and shy I waited for thee.
Till I locked my arms round my lover above,
A child in form but a woman in love.
And I bore thy sons, as a woman should,
Year by year, as is meet and good.
Thy mother was ever content with me—
And Oh, Beloved, I worshipped thee!
And now it’s over; alas, my lord,