Miłość, sen i śmierć nadchodzą pomału Schwyć mnie za włosy i mocno pocałuj. - Algernon Charles Swinburne

At the door of life, by the gate of breath,
There are worse things waiting for men than death.

O all fair lovers about the world,
There is none of you, none, that shall comfort me.
My thoughts are as dead things, wrecked and whirled
Round and round in a gulf of the sea;
And still, through the sound and the straining stream,
Through the coil and chafe, they gleam in a dream,
The bright fine lips so cruelly curled,
And strange swift eyes where the soul sits free.

For the crown of our life as it closes Is darkness, the fruit thereof dust; No thorns go as deep as a rose's, And love is more cruel than lust.