Nay, I speak no ill of thee my brother,
tis against all that I desire to do to thee.
Gladly I would return to thee above another
all of the good thou hast bestowed upon me.
Thou art my friend, a kindlier soul hast
not my arms embraced in brotherly love.
To my sister thou hast given thy love to last,
thus in death thy lips kiss hers gently as a dove.
Thus in life ye were both so dearly bound;
secure in thy love. Lo, not even her death,
bearing that which cries a pleasing sound
is she lost; for she lives in the babes breath.
So let us stay our weeping till we are alone,
when we may bare our grief in our solitude.
My dearest sister, if I could but willingly atone,
thus have thee caress thy child with gratitude.
'Tis not to be, 'tis not to be for thou art gone,
thus we who are left shall mourn thy going.
No longer will we hear thee, but one, thy son
shall hear thee in doves call and rivers flowing.
Note
It matters not that changes are made, for there are improvement in all things.
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