I’ve not, in truth, knowing the late Ms. Carolyn,
It might be owing I am quite late to come in;
It’s when I know about her from you, dear masters,
And learn you’ve found in her love’s true lasting treasures;
Wildfire of adore, I feel, burning in! Spreading!
As the feelings underwent by, you, tears-shedding!

* * * * *

Understand, please, my forms are betraying me here,
I’ve forgotten all styles taught by you to endear!
See how the very thought of death makes me forget,
Each feeling I’ve been treasuring in my sachet!

* * * * *

Sentiments that you’ve been sharing of her sweetly,
Indeed, you’ve been loving her forever fondly!
It’s this makes my mad mind to tell you so sternly,
Death has succeeded in making you feel lowly!

* * * * *

Carolyn is not dead! She’s caravanning! Feel!
She’s researching on grave and coffin, with great zeal!
When she’s out, kindly, convey my wishes to her!
Ask her to compose me, rhyme on her study rare!