She kept her light, lit from a distance,
I wonder, is she in bed, by night;
Whereas, I am watching her 'very instance,
She is still, late, keeping that light.

What kind of love does bring this message?
If it is for no other purpose
Than to tie one's lover the whole age,
And to die with, I suppose.

She left us now before darkness,
A small gleam were our remembrance.
Her beauty, with some frankness,
Is to heaven a shining entrance.

My lady, though you are so far
The light you turn is near.
It guides me to where the roses are
To pick only one who is dear.