Hurt that my heart does, the knowledge that I have killed you,
Cry that my eyes do for the blood I know I poured.
Oh Captain my captain, see what I have done you!
Better that you would have been blind,
Indeed you were blind.
Did they not beg you to see?
I am but a high wretched lady,
With a heart of stone, with a dead lover who is ever too blind to see,
And all fingers are pointed at me.
Forgive me sweet Anthony.
And while you are away, remember this charred heart that loves you,
Do not suffer very much, in eternity, soon I will join you.