His face endures

The face that was familiar is no more

 Though in my dreaming mind his face endures

My heart is not beloved as before.

All alone I’m weary and I’m sore.

I throw myself to earth, the widow’s cure

Would I were a witch. I’d light the fire.

And end my life upon a widow’s pyre

I have no child, my empty womb is bare.

In my dreams he lives, I am a liar

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