Le Morte d'Amour
(or, The Death of Love)

O cursed day! O cursed day!
My lady love has run away
I told her yea, she told me nay
O cursed day! O cursed day!

O cursed day! O cursed day!
With one fell word the lass did slay
And left me bleeding as I lay
O cursed day! O cursed day!

O cursed day! O cursed day!
As famished wolves do harshly bay
So must I howl, in great dismay
O cursed day! O cursed day!

O cursed day! O cursed day!
My crimson sins are flush as May
And heavy on my heart they weigh
O cursed day! O cursed day!

O cursed day! O cursed day!
Lord Father still this pain I pray
Lest I from thee should haply stray
O cursed day! O cursed day!

O cursed day! O cursed day!
My lifeblood swiftly ebbs away
My mangled thoughts in disarray
This love's a cruel game to play.

Just in case anyone was wondering whether this poem is autobiographical, it isn't. It was written for an anonymous friend of mine who had some issues with his love life. He seems to have moved on pretty fast, though. And as for me... well, if you don't have any love to begin with, it can't possibly die.