Classic Poem

Your memory is death to me,
My only good the sight of you;
I swear by all that I hold true
That joy without you cannot be.
When I your face no longer view
I die of sadness, yea — pardie!
Your memory is death to me.

Alas! sweet sister, fair to see,
Have pity on me, for with you
Evil recoils, the sky is blue;
Without you clouds shade land and sea.
Your memory is death to me!