The Eternal
Your dear desired grace,
Your hands, your lips of red,
The wonder of your perfect face
Will fade, like sweet rose-petals shed,
When you are dead.
Your beautiful hair
Dust in the dust will lie -
But not the light I worship there,
The gold the sunshine crowns you by -
This will not die.
Your beautiful eyes
Will be closed up with clay;
But all the magic they comprise,
The hopes, the dreams, the ecstasies
Pass not away.
All I desire and see
Will be a carrion thing;
But all that you have been to me
Is, and can never cease to be.
O Grave! where is thy victory?
Where, Death, thy sting?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Related quotes
Choriambics
Love, what ailed thee to leave life that was made lovely, we thought, with love?
What sweet visions of sleep lured thee away, down from the light above?
What strange faces of dreams, voices that called, hands that were raised to wave,
Lured or led thee, alas, out of the sun, down to the sunless grave?
Ah, thy luminous eyes! once was their light fed with the fire of day;
Now their shadowy lids cover them close, hush them and hide away.
Ah, thy snow-coloured hands! once were they chains, mighty to bind me fast;
Now no blood in them burns, mindless of love, senseless of passion past.
Ah, thy beautiful hair! so was it once braided for me, for me;
Now for death is it crowned, only for death, lover and lord of thee.
Sweet, the kisses of death set on thy lips, colder are they than mine;
Colder surely than past kisses that love poured for thy lips as wine.
Lov'st thou death? is his face fairer than love's, brighter to look upon?
Seest thou light in his eyes, light by which love's pales and is overshone?
Lo the roses of death, grey as the dust, chiller of leaf than snow!
Why let fall from thy hand love's that were thine, roses that loved thee so?
Large red lilies of love, sceptral and tall, lovely for eyes to see;
Thornless blossom of love, full of the sun, fruits that were reared for thee.
Now death's poppies alone circle thy hair, girdle thy breasts as white;
Bloodless blossoms of death, leaves that have sprung never against the light.
Nay then, sleep if thou wilt; love is content; what should he do to weep?
Sweet was love to thee once; now in thine eyes sweeter than love is sleep.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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How Beautiful Is It
Pilling up the positive thoughts,
Wishing time could depart us,
How beautiful are your hands,
Fashioning a fish pond with your peers,
Holding your niece so dearly,
Awaiting to hug cousin,
How beautiful are your hands,
As beautiful as they may be,
They will never hold me
Your eyes looked beyond me,
Sensible but not even capable,
How beautiful are your eyes,
Looking at the smoke and clouds,
In desolate lands with voidness,
Where wealth is found under sand,
How far can your eyes see,
As clear and vivid your vision may be,
You may never see me in your sight
Being simple and full of humility,
How far can you act my friend,
The words are hidden and rare,
Difficult to choose and express,
Yet the feeling so easy to encounter
How beautiful are you feelings,
As beautiful and humble as they may be,
You might never feel for me
The movement of the stars and moon,
The dreams you dream my dear,
The hopes, thoughts and visions,
Being there is actually being absent,
How beautiful are your dreams,
Do you dream of me like I do,
How wonderful are you visions,
As wonderful and beautiful they may,
I might never be in them
Me and you, perfect match,
The fairytales so continous and perfect,
The feeling so strong and ever coming,
How beautiful is us,
As beautiful as we may be,
There can never be us.
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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My Beautiful Darling! !
You are beautiful
Not only because of the curve of your hips
Or the shape of your body
Not only because of the fullness of your lips
Or the curl of your eye lashes
You are beautiful because you want to be
You are beautiful because God made you that way
You are beautiful because in your eyes
There is no one more beautiful than you.
You are beautiful because you have a heart
And that is a beautiful thing
You are beautiful because you have a brain
And that is a beautiful thing
You are beautiful because you give advice
And that is a beautiful thing
You are beautiful because you want to be
You are beautiful because God made you that way
You are beautiful because in your eyes
There is no one more beautiful than you.
You are beautiful because you have confidence
You are beautiful because you have determination and wit
You are beautiful because you have goals and you plan to reach them
You are beautiful because you are always there to lend a helping hand
You are beautiful because you want to be
You are beautiful because God made you that way
You are beautiful because in your eyes
There is no one more beautiful than you..
poem by Samuel Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful
I am beautiful
Not only because of the curve of my hips
Or the shape of my body
Not only because of the fullness of my lips
Or the curl of my eye lashes
I am beautiful because I want to be
I am beautiful because God made me that way
I am beautiful because in my eyes
There is no one more beautiful than me
I am beautiful because I have a heart
And that is a beautiful thing
I am beautiful because I have a brain
And that is a beautiful thing
I am beautiful because I give advice
And that is a beautiful thing
I am beautiful because I want to be
I am beautiful because God made me that way
I am beautiful because in my eyes
There is no one more beautiful than me
I am beautiful because I have confidence
I am beautiful because I have determination and wit
I am beautiful because I have goals and I plan to reach them
I am beautiful because I am always there to lend a helping hand
I am beautiful because I want to be
I am beautiful because God made me that way
I am beautiful because in my eyes
There is no one more beautiful than me
2/9/08
poem by Candice George
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My Mom
My Mom was like a perfect rose at springtime,
Pure and beautiful, and the petals perfectly formed,
And it's fragrance sweet and pleasing to the senses.
For the rose, as my mom, came into this world as a thing of beauty.
As time passed, the winds came into my mother's life,
For as life brings the rose, it also brings the winds.
The wind blows the petals off the rose and it is no longer new
And struggles through the wind to regain its strength and beauty.
Because the rose by God's design is a thing of splendor,
The petals grow back as the winds die down,
As did my mother, for her spirit was strong,
And she lived her life with a love that had no boundaries.
My Mom fought many winds with grace and strength,
Always with a smile and never to bring sadness to anyone,
For she could not bear to see anyone cry,
She was too full of love and life to let the wind touch her spirit.
Mom was my perfect rose; beautiful, warm, loving, and sweet.
She is safe from the winds now and lives in Heaven.
She will live on in my heart always,
And ease the strong wind that weakens me.
Someday the wind will be only a gentle breeze upon my face,
And I will know that she lives on in me forever.
I will know that my Mom is still with me,
Still beautiful and strong and loving.
She is safe now and so much stronger than the winds
The she so courageously endured.
And in that she taught me to believe, have faith, and to know
That I have the strength to endure the winds of my own sorrow.
I love you Mom, you are forever in my heart - you are forever.
poem by Sally DeSmet Trueblood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Beautiful Fairy And The Fairy Dust Rain
Around this time of the year
The arrival of Spring is near
The arrival of Spring is almost here
And I'll happily be one with the spirits of nature
I'll completely embrace the magic of spring
As well as the wonder of nature
And the many other worldly pleasures
Around this time of the year
I await the fairy dust rain
Surrounded by trees and flowers
And many other things that are green
I await the arrival of the fairy dust rain
And many other sights of nature just waiting to be seen
A beautiful fairy flutters down from the sky
And lands down in front of me
She's almost as tall as me
We greet each other
And our hopes are the same
As we wait for the fairy dust rain
In the meantime
The beautiful fairy shows me her gifts of magic
And shares her knowledge with me as well
After periods of time have gone by
Fairy dust begins to rain down from the sky
The fairy dust rain has finally arrived
And we share the smiles and laughter
You ask me for a dance
And I don't hesitate to pass up this chance
We dance
Surrounded by flowers
Surrounded by trees
Surrounded by the fairy dust rain
After dancing
We look into each other's eyes
And then up to the skies
As the fairy dust rain continues to fall
Our eyes then return to each other
And we share a hug
You flutter your wings a little
Shaking off some of the fairy dust that's covered them
You tell me you're staying with me
At least for the time being right now
Little by little
We're being lightly covered in the fairy dust rain
Beautiful fairy
I must say that these moments we share
They're memorable and precious
You echo your feelings and sentiments to me as well
As the fairy dust rain continues to fill the air
Side by side
We stand together
Loving what's happening
But most importantly
We enjoy the sight of the fairy dust rain
poem by Justin Gildow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Beautiful U R
How Beautiful u r
You r beautiful
Not only because of the curve of your hips
Or the shape of your body
Not only because of the fullness of your lips
Or the curl of your eye lashes
You r beautiful because you want to be
You r beautiful because God made you that way
You r beautiful in my eyes
There is no one more beautiful than you
You r beautiful because you have a heart
And that is a beautiful thing
You r beautiful because you have a brain
And that is a beautiful thing
You r beautiful because you give advice
And that is a beautiful thing
You r beautiful because you want to be
You r beautiful because God made you that way
You r beautiful in my eyes
There is no one more beautiful than you
You r beautiful because you have confidence
You r beautiful because you have determination and wit
You r beautiful because you have goals and you plan to reach them
You r beautiful because you always there to lend a helping hand
You r beautiful because you want to be
You r beautiful because God made you that way
You r beautiful in my eyes
There is no one more beautiful than You
Dats y u r de beautiful one in dis world?
Dats y u r my friend? ?
Thanks for being my friend...
poem by Arjun singh Chhabra
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Don Rafael
'I would not have,' he said,
'Tears, nor the black pall, nor the wormy grave,
Grief's hideous panoply I would not have
Round me when I am dead.
'Music and flowers and light,
And choric dances to guitar and flute,
Be these around me when my lips are mute,
Mine eyes are sealed from sight.
'So let me lie one day,
One long, eternal day, in sunshine bathed,
In cerements of silken tissue swathed,
Smothered 'neath flowers of May.
'One perfect day of peace,
Or ere clean flame consume my fleshly veil,
My life-a gilded vapor-shall exhale,
Brief as a sigh-and cease.
'But ere the torch be laid
To my unshrinking limbs by some true hand,
Athwart the orange-fragrant laughing land,
Bring many a dark-eyed maid
'From the bright, sea-kissed town;
My beautiful, beloved enemies,
Gemmed as the dew, voluptuous as the breeze,
Each in her festal gown.
'All those through whom I learned
The sweet of folly and the pains of love,
My Rose, my Star, my Comforter, my Dove,
For whom, poor moth, I burned.
'Loves of a day, and hour,
Or passions (vowed eternal) of a year,
Though each be strange to each, to me all dear
As to the bee the flower.
'Around me they shall move
In languid contra dances, and shall shed
Their smiling eyebeams as I were not dead,
But quick to flash back love.
'Something not alien quite
To tender ruth, perchance their breast shall fill,
Seeing him that was so mobile grown so still,
The fiery-veined so white.
'And when the dance is o'er,
The pinched guitar, the smitten tambourine,
Have ceased their rhythmic beat,-oh, friends of mine,
On my rich bier, then pour
'The garlands that ye wear,
The happy rose that on your bosom breathes,
The fresh-culled clusters and the dewy wreaths
That crown your fragrant hair.
'Though blind, I still shall see,
Though dead, shall feel your presence and shall know,
I who was beauty's life-long slave, shall so
Win her in death to me.
'Thanks, sisters, and farewell!
Back to your joys. My brother shall make room
For my tried sword upon the high-piled bloom,
And fire the pinnacle.
'My soul, pure flame, shall leap
To meet its parent essence once again
My body dust and ashes shall remain,
Tired heart and brain shall sleep.
'Life has one gate alone,
Obscure, beset with peril and fierce pain.
Large death has many portals to his fane,
Why choose we to make moan?
'Why dwell with worms and clay
When we may soar through air on wings of flame,
Dissolve to small, white dust our perfect frame,
And never know decay?
'A brother's pious hand
The pure, fire-winnowed ashes shall inurn,
And lay them in the orange grove where burn
Globed suns that scent the land.
'The leaf shall be more green,
Even for my dust-more snowy-soft the flower,
More juicy-sweet the fruit's live pulp-the bower
Richer that I have been.
'For I would not,' he said,
'Tears and the black pall and the wormy grave,
Grief's hideous panoply I would not have
Round me when I am dead.'
poem by Emma Lazarus
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Funmilola
SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL THAT YOU WILL WANT TO KEEP LOOKING AT HER, HER SMILE BRING SMILE TO EVERY LIPS.HER EYES WONT EVER MAKE HER WANT TO LIE.HER BEAUTY IS LIKE A ROSE IN FULL BLOOM, SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL THAT WHEN OUR CREATOR THOUGHT OF BEAUTY HE SAW ONLY HER.SHE IS WONDERFULY MADE, GOD MADE HER SMILE OF THE SUNSHINE, AND HE MAOLDED HER HEART OF PURE GOLD, IN HER EYES HE PLACED BRIGHT SHINING STARS, IN HER CHEEKS FAIR ROSE YOU SEE.SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL THAT IF A THOUSAND PAINTER WORK FOR A MILLION YEARS THEY COULD NOT CREATE A WORK OF ART AS BEAUTIFUL AS HER.SHE IS AS BEAUTIFUL AS VIRGIN SAND, SHE IS AS BEAUTIFUL AS RAINBOW FULL OF COLOURS, SHE IS AS BEAUTIFUL AS STARS FILLED THE SKY, SHE IS AS BEAUTIFUL AS BLOOMING FLOWER.OH BEAUTIFUL HER NAME WAS CALLED, SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL, SHE SPEAK OF BEAUTY, SHE SLEEP IN BEAUTY, , SHE WALK IN BEAUTY, SHE LIVE IN BEAUTY.SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL THAT THEIR IS NO FLOWER THAT CAN BE COMPARED TO HER BEAUTY, SHE IS REINCANATION OF AN ANGEL, FAIREST OF ALL, GODESS OF BEAUTIES, EXQUISITE BEAUTY LIKE SUNSHINE.
poem by Tijani Adebowale Destiny
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Rose Petals
Rose petals are so soft to touch,
rose petalsfragrance is so divine to smell,
rose petals are like lovely lips which smile,
rose petals are given to lady love,
rose petals are spread on bed of newly bride,
rose petals are life of butterflies,
rose petals are used for beauty baths,
rpse petals are offered on the lotus feet of god,
rose petals are placed on grave of dear ones,
rose petals are offered in river ganga for departed soul,
rose petals are showered on newly weds,
rose petals are decorated on festive days,
roses are given as a promise for everlasting love.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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The Dead To The Living
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
With the young year's blood in them smiled,
I passed through the lanes and the wakened fields,
And stood by the grave of the child.
And the pain awoke that is never dead
Though it sometimes sleeps, and again
It set its teeth in this heart of mine,
And fastened its claws in my brain:
For it seemed so hard that the little hands
And the little well-loved head
Should be out of reach of my living lips,
And be side by side with the dead--
Not side by side with us who had loved,
But with these who had never seen
The grace of the smile, the gold of the hair,
And the eyes of my baby-queen.
Yet with trees about where the brown birds build,
And with long green grass above,
She lies in the cold sweet breast of earth
Beyond the reach of our love;
Whatever befalls in the coarse loud world,
We know she will never wake.
When I thought of the sorrow she might have known,
I was almost glad for her sake. . . .
Tears might have tired those kiss-closed eyes,
Grief hardened the mouth I kissed;
I was almost glad that my dear was dead
Because of the pain she had missed.
Oh, if I could but have died a child
With a white child-soul like hers,
As pure as the wind-flowers down in the copse,
Where the soul of the spring's self stirs;
Or if I had only done with it all,
And might lie by her side unmoved!
I envied the very clods of earth
Their place near the child I loved!
And my soul rose up in revolt at life,
As I stood dry-eyed by her grave,
When sudden the grass of the churchyard sod
Rolled back like a green smooth wave;
The brown earth looked like the brown sea rocks,
The tombstones were white like spray,
And white like surf were the curling folds
Of the shrouds where the dead men lay;
For each in his place with his quiet face
I saw the dead lie low,
Who had worked and suffered and found life sad,
So many sad years ago.
Unchanged by time I saw them lie
As when first they were laid to rest,
The tired eyes closed, the sad lips still,
And the work-worn hands on the breast.
There were some who had found the green world so grey,
They had left it before their time,
And some were little ones like my dear,
And some had died in their prime;
And some were old, they had had their fill
Of bitter unfruitful hours,
And knew that none of them, none, had known
A flower of a hope like ours!
Through their shut eyelids the dead looked up,
And without a voice they said:
'We lived without hope, without hope we died,
And hopeless we lie here dead;
And death is better than life that draws
Pain in, as it draws in breath,
If life never dreams of a coming day
When life shall not envy death.
Through the dark of our hours and our times we lived,
Uncheered by a single ray
Of such hope as lightens the lives of you
Who are finding life hard to-day;
With our little lanterns of human love
We lighted our dark warm night--
But you in the chill of the dawn are set
With your face to the eastern light.
Freedom is waiting with hands held out
Till you tear the veil from her face--
And when once men have seen the light of her eyes,
And felt her divine embrace,
The light of the world will be risen indeed,
And will shine in the eyes of men,
And those who come after will find life fair,
And their lives worth living then!
Will you strive to the light in your loud rough world,
That these things may come to pass,
Or lie in the shadow beside the child,
And strive to the sun through the grass?'
'My world while I may,' I cried; 'but you
Whose lives were as dark as your grave?'
'We too are a part of the coming light,'
They called through the smooth green wave.
Their white shrouds gleamed as the flood of green
Rolled over and hid them from me--
Hid all but the little hands and the hair,
And the face that I always see.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Praise of Dust
'What of vile dust?' the preacher said.
Methought the whole world woke,
The dead stone lived beneath my foot,
And my whole body spoke.
'You, that play tyrant to the dust,
And stamp its wrinkled face,
This patient star that flings you not
Far into homeless space.
'Come down out of your dusty shrine
The living dust to see,
The flowers that at your sermon's end
Stand blazing silently.
'Rich white and blood-red blossom; stones,
Lichens like fire encrust;
A gleam of blue, a glare of gold,
The vision of the dust.
'Pass them all by: till, as you come
Where, at a city's edge,
Under a tree-I know it well-
Under a lattice ledge,
'The sunshine falls on one brown head.
You, too, O cold of clay,
Eater of stones, may haply hear
The trumpets of that day
'When God to all his paladins
By his own splendour swore
To make a fairer face than heaven,
Of dust and nothing more.'
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Thou Art a Flower
Thou art a flower, dear heart, a fragrant flower
And I, the wandering, hair-clad, amorous bee.
’Mongst all the regal beauties of the bower,
I seek but thee.
I feel the ivory of thy petals fair
Brush lightly on my belly as I woo
And I would sting thee, if I did but dare,
So sweet are you.
I suck the honey from your dewy bowl
And drunken mad, with wild, delirious bliss,
Within your cup, I yield to you my soul
And drink your kiss.
Oh! petals sweet, close in and crush me dead.
I am consumed in flames of passion’s fire.
What else is left, when this dear hour hath fled.
But dead desire?
The juice of poppy flowers and breath of rose,
Wistaria’s purple, blood-flecked lilies white,
I pilfer and when, soft, your petals close,
When comes the night.
I pour the passions of the world of flowers
Deep in beyond the lips of quivering red.
Your life is mine to craze the trembling hours,
All else is dead.
poem by from The Point of View
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Praise of Dust
'What of vile dust?' the preacher said.
Methought the whole world woke,
The dead stone lived beneath my foot,
And my whole body spoke.
'You, that play tyrant to the dust,
And stamp its wrinkled face,
This patient star that flings you not
Far into homeless space.
'Come down out of your dusty shrine
The living dust to see,
The flowers that at your sermon's end
Stand blazing silently.
'Rich white and blood-red blossom; stones,
Lichens like fire encrust;
A gleam of blue, a glare of gold,
The vision of the dust.
'Pass them all by: till, as you come
Where, at a city's edge,
Under a tree - I know it well -
Under a lattice ledge,
'The sunshine falls on one brown head.
You, too, O cold of clay,
Eater of stones, may haply hear
The trumpets of that day
'When God to all his paladins
By his own splendour swore
To make a fairer face than heaven,
Of dust and nothing more.'
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Picture of Love
If only I could touch your hands
Maybe you will rightly understand
Your own final destined place
And how I desire to touch your face
This is undoubtedly a picture of love
With your pink lips curled like a curve
Dust is to dust
As rust is to rust
Dust is to dust
As lust is lust
And I have found myself completely lost
Lost in an imaginary beautiful picture
Ready for you my love at any cost
I perceive this as a destined fixture
Trust is a must
As mistrust is disgust
Dust is to dust
And love is to trust
So let us adjust
Before the month of August
And I have found an entry
To your heart by pure chemistry
Your picture is the one of the century
And I will embark on this journey
A journey of curiosity
A journey of animosity
Because a picture is like a beautiful song
You can stare as you would listen to it all day long
Copyright 2007 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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So Beautiful
The way her lips poked out from her face, so beautiful
The way her hair laid across her face
Just those few strades of hair would do it
So beautiful
When her face wrenkle up when she's mad
Not all that beautiful but still
So beautiful
When she sit down how her legs chris-cross
Makes you wanna bit yo bottom lip
Making your lips whispper
Something like this...
She's So Beautiful
poem by Ardimus Caldwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magic Is In You
Magic is in your skin I want to be in
Magic is in your eyes for you the perfect size
Magic is in everything you wear down you your underwear’s
Magic is in your touch I want you so much
Magic is in your voice that makes me loose all choice
Magic is in your look for you have me open like a book
Magic is in your lips right down to you hips
Magic is in your kiss that I do miss
Magic is in the air when you are there
Magic is in your hair for you do care
Magic is in your being for you are worth seeing
Magic is in your nose right down to your toes
Magic is in your quirkiness for you are happiness
Magic is in your walk and the way you talk
Magic is in your style and that beautiful profile
Magic is in your laughter for I’ll stay ever after
Magic is in your cheek for you make me weak
Magic is in your arms that hold me tight makes me feel all right
Magic is in your face so sweet you’re good enough to eat
Magic is in your smile for you I’d walk more than a mile
Magic is in your arms to hold that chases away the cold
Magic is in your kindness for you have taken away my sadness
Magic is in your romance for you have given me a second chance
Magic is in your bosom felt I melt
Magic is in everything you say that makes my day
Magic is in everything and everywhere because you are there
Magic is in everything for the joy you bring
Magic is in everything come what may for in your life I’ll stay
Magic is in everything for sure for you are the one I adore
Magic is in everything you do for I love you
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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I'll Make You Happy
Love is the drug were blessed and cursed
I could feel the hunger burst inside of you
Perfect body perfect skin
There is no perfect anything
I tried hard to be the perfect one
But its not enough
Its not enough
Welcome to my execution
In the name of love
In the name of love
Turn up your radio love is king
Everything will be beautiful
Turn up your radio forget that sting
Everything will be beautiful
Loves got a dirty mind
Love can bite
I forget that sometime loves a parasite
Hail hail Mary full of grace
You disappeared without a trace
I needed your hand to lead me through this fire
But you let it go
You let it go
Wheres my absolution
I really dont know
I really dont know
Turn up your radio love is king
Everything will be beautiful
Turn up your radio forget that sting
Everything will be beautiful beautiful
Hey hey my my
I said my perfect love will never die
Perfect love perfect sin
There is no perfect anything
We tear each other limb from limb
In the name of God
In the name of love
Theres only two choices sink or swim
I wish I was perfect
For you
Turn up your radio love is king
Everything will be beautiful
Turn up your radio forget that sting
Everything will be beautiful
Turn up your radio love is king
Everything will be
Everything will be beautiful
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Special Red Rose
My Special Red Rose
My special red rose so full of life just blossoming with
lovely red petals
Always looking so beautiful and radiant in the morning sun
And now yet again another red petal has falling from my
beautiful rose
but the petals that remain are very dear to me because they are still part of my lovely red rose.
Yet today my special red rose doesn't blossom quite as full but I still look at it every day in the morning light
For the lovely red petals that are still on my special
red rose
bring so much joy and happiness to my hearts delight
poem by Joseph Skelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Is Here And Death Is There
I.
Death is here and death is there,
Death is busy everywhere,
All around, within, beneath,
Above is death—and we are death.
II.
Death has set his mark and seal
On all we are and all we feel,
On all we know and all we fear,
...
III.
First our pleasures die—and then
Our hopes, and then our fears—and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust—and we die too.
IV.
All things that we love and cherish,
Like ourselves must fade and perish;
Such is our rude mortal lot--
Love itself would, did they not.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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