All is now lost for you belong to him,

I heard the distant steeple peal its joy

Which to my ear struck dire, cold and grim

To torture ears and stinging eyes annoy;

What’s left of love when solemn bronze shall toll,

From that same dome that mourns when death descends?

One sonorous gong baits happiness and woe

Commingling bright beginnings with sad end.

No doubt your mouth did form the words ‘I do’;

Stained lips did press to seal that sacred vow,

What of that pledge to me you swore was true…?

That oath now scattered rice upon the ground.

Though cherubim voices did so canonize—

What truth is blessed by consecrated lies?