In one hand
beauty I hold
in the other
sorrow untold-

I'm dying
in this late winter
Rome is not home
to return to England never-

love is beyond my reach
fate is too cruel
I'm fading away in illness
with nothing to fulfil-

no epitaph will I write
only my poetry will speak for me
ah, how sweet will that moment of release be
when I fall into my final sleep-- so gladly