By each let this be heard,

Some do it with a bitter look,

Some with a flattering word.

The coward does it with a kiss,

The brave man with a sword.

Some kill their love when they are young,

And some when they are old;

Some strangle with the hands of lust,

Some with the hands of Gold:

The kindest use a knife because

The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,

Some sell, and others buy;

Some do the deed with many tears,

And some without a sigh:

For each man kills the things he loves

Yet each man does not die.

He does not die a death of shame

On a day of dark disgrace,

Nor have a noose about his neck,

Nor a cloth upon his face;

Nor drop feet foremost through the floor

Into an empty space.