For thee, I fight

An icy blade to stab my aching heart:
'Twas thus when I beheld thy desperate mien;
I saw at once how selfish I had been
To daily weep the cast of my bit part;

The gloom of doom accosts me, blackest art,
Its poison vapor seeps its way between,
And pulls thee toward the lip of the ravine
That I did dredge when I let hope depart;

I vow now I will not be cowed by life;
I'll brave disasters, tragedies, defeats
And swing my sword 'gainst dragons that might loom;

I utterly reject a life composed in gloom;
No earthly woe must ever cause retreat
So long as I've the armor of my wife!