Stay and mourn at the tomb of the dead
Where his broken heart profusely bled
As if the wounded sky cried tears of red
Glory is a banner from his wings outspread
Wretched, broken by a ravenous storm unfed
His quivering heart shall scorch and shred
Alas, his forty snows had not yet been shed
Song of his birth turned into a lament instead
Maiden of dreams, bride of eternal light
Stay and mourn, let candles burn bright
Warm your heart in the coldness of the night
Let the tides wash your tears and plight
Bathe your tears in rivers of sorrow and delight
Forget not, it was his will, to perish in flight
His dead wings carried him like a silver kite
His soul will eternally soar to a greater height
Maxwell O'Reilly
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