" Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let her be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath; She is slain by grief that doth not fade. Her shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it! Her part of death, no one so true Did share it "

― Ian Doescher , William Shakespeare's The Merry Rise of Skywalker: Star Wars Part the Ninth (William Shakespeare's Star Wars Book 9)