Ophelia Poem by Liam O'Brien

Hades! I pray take me as thy lover!
Violets taken by the shadow of death
Whilst father lays in rosemary cover
Invite Persephone to leave Macbeth.

Shall not all ladies cry for dead and gone?
By faded age, 'tis true, the flowers wilt.
All gifts are poor when given with man's scorn
Despite honey with which the words are gilt.

Not better, yet worse, these words circle 'round,
How should true love be known from another?
Watch for perusal with doublet unbound,
Truer love shall be found on thy brother.

Rue for repentance of sins long forgot,
Pansies for thoughts of those rue covers not.