The fairest face of all is the face I have not seen. - Ernest Dowson

I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine.

Better than mortal flowers,
Thy moon-kissed roses seem.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.<p>They are not long, the days of wine and roses;
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.