O Knife, who’s hand was last on thee, I know;
And now I stretch my hand for Romeo.
O Romeo, bravest name beneath the sun,
Together in this crypt we are undone.
Our only bodies here we leave to fly,
Fly up our love to heights beyond the eye
Of hate and scorn and argumentive strife,
Made peaceful in the slice of one bright knife.
Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wait, dear love, for me;
My hand is slow, but Ah! I come to thee!
No, it does not hurt, so do not cry.
Look, look! My blood’s serenest river, yea.
Oh, death is easy when you want to die,
And come I faithful to our lasting day.