Two twisted threads of fate of mismatched length
We were: yours snapped short in the power
Of pride and youth, mine spun out past all strength
Of bearing, and stretched thinner hour by hour
Our time together was so short, and when
I cross the river to the other side,
I'll search Elysium's fields for you again
But will you recognize your withered bride?
The fates must weave their tapestry anew:
Grow old with me, and I'll grow young with you.