Love is cruel to those who are left

Love is cruel to those who are left

They have their strength,they have their health

But their grief is like a knife

That cut the husband from the wife.

Fortune favours those who die

For all alone they will not lie.

Every object, every place

Reminds us of the lost embrose.

Grief is anxious,insecure

We may have gold love’s not assured

Looking into unknown fields

May these rhythms some mercy yield