Quarrel

Be there gods, then
They must fly with him, and
Gilded wings sweep sorrow's
Own full grief 'neath mat of sky

If they be just gods, he is safe,
Though hell should wail and demons cry,
And naught I did or do, or might entice
Deny him place in Paradise.

Or be there no gods, this life all,
Then he is gone and been and done
And no more sentient, ashes flown,
Beyond a myth, love truly died.

But be there fool's gods, shabby, sly,
All hope is false, and naught I did or do
Might bring a peace to matter dark
And matters not to try.