So we come then at last,

To that place where lovers crawl and die.

Cupid’s graveyard,

For the broken hearted,

Where truth pays her debt for each lie.

2

Bride’s blushes to ashes,

Trust to dust,

Hear the sermon weep.

But we ourselves must lay awhile,

In Aphrodite’s citadel, like loveshorn sheep.

3

But wail you not,

You handsome ones.

For there’s nothing to fear or to hate.

Great loves all must pass this way,

Through love’s rusted, gilded gate.

4

And when once more the sun will shine,

Across this silvery dais,

Your love will rise again be sure.

And walk out through the morning haze.