What fair memory shall soon be too far

What fair memory shall soon be too far,
When with the darkened night, my world corrupts?
What then would I hold onto, if the jar,
That holds every bit of my hope, erupts?
Loathe would I be to misplace, your grace,
In the reaches of my melancholic mind.
For the light I find in your gentle face,
Is far to precious, to me, to leave behind.
A frozen, harsh night, left for me to live.
The thought of you is to me, warm fire.
So when I have given all I can give,
A thought of you, is a world I desire.
My world can be a dark lonely island,
But remembering you, it, I can stand.