The summer when our children died–
When they slipped away so silently–
Was the summer that our love died.
Though we never dared to notice,
In our mourning we grew cold.
Our fair daughter faded
Our dear son departed
And we could not comfort each other.
They grew ill and we stayed strong
But our love drifted along with them.
Our love rot ill and now we are but two
Alone and frail without our loves.