“For I shall seal away my heart,

In hopes that I shan’t return to this place”

Cried the voice of the young Astarte

As tears of his fell down his face

And hit her fresh, new dug grave.

Beneath the tree where by unknown grace

He had first been with his beloved Faith

And there they had sworn themselves

To each other, and now unclean it was made.

Here in this place, she rests,

Dust to dust, earth once more.

Cold, frozen clay, nature’s best

Craftmanship, undone

And he would swear himself

To this place , no more to come.

For black Death had come to roost

And that repulsive fetor

Was now let loose.

“For I shall seal away my heart,

In hopes that I shan’t return to this place”

Cried the voice of the young Astarte