LIFE

Hearken, O dear, now strikes the hour we die;

We, who in our strange kiss

Have proved a dream the world's realities,

Turned each from other's darkness with a sigh,

Need heed no more of life, waste no more breath

On any other journey, but of death.

And yet: Oh, know we well

How each of us must prove Love's infidel;

Still out of ecstasy turn trembling back

To earth's same empty track

Of leaden day by day, and hour by hour, and be

Of all things lovely the cold mortuary.