O churchyard richer than gold hall,
More precious still than human binds;
Of noble blood you hide the lines,
Of sinners you conceal the fall.
Drink now the tears to my loves cried,
Loves resting here and undisturbed;
Wherefore went hours to time's sad swerve,
That all of us in youth allied?
To darkling myrtle comes tears' stain
Which feeds our love and lets it sprout;
So green to gird my wilted brow,
My sounds, which only rendered pain.
O churchyard borne by tearful leas,
Of gloomy boy-lost days a friend,
D'you often hear my hoarse laments,
As I'm abandoned choicelessly?