Looking Glass Lake

I look upon his beauty in this darkened room,
What perfection he was from a goddess' womb,
No mortal could ever of such beauty give,
To a single boy, as of now he lives,
But soon, one day, his fate should behold,
A death, a death, ne'er young nor old,
Is he, today, looking upon his glass,
His reflection, his vanity never to pass,
To stay, and be the death of him,
His death, of water, and of most grim.

Still he stares, into the lake,
Racked with guilt and heartache,
Sorry for his lady's death,
That girl who takes her very last breath.