Little passage written for Mithra

For I have seen her walk along my side in garden beauty.

And all I loved I gave to her for a drop of garden beauty.

 And now that I am old and dead with flowers sprouting from my chest:

 Shall I say 

That it was indeed worth doing?

As if i'd trade away her looks for the hours spent in mourning 

for the countless walks beneath the moon, that knew my faults and spoke them truly?

For jeers and scars, for pain and shame, was all of it worth doing?

With no regrets I die this day-

And with the angels I'll be going-

Author's Note

tear this apart!