You Did Not Merely Die, but You Were Murdered

I would but mourn, but vengeance clouds my sorrow;
I would but kill, but love finds there no peace;
I would but weep, but weeping is a river
That flows with vast intention to the sea.

I must, I must confess that I have lost you,
And find a place to plant my plucked-out love,
And look to justice, not revenge, to free you
To dance again with joy where loved ones live.