I had grown pure as the dawn and the dew, You had grown strong as the sun or the sea. But none shall triumph a whole life through: For death is one, … - Algernon Charles Swinburne

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

She knows not loves that kissed her

She knows not where.

Art thou the ghost, my sister,

White sister there,

Am I the ghost, who knows?

My hand, a fallen rose,

Lies snow-white on white snows, and

takes no care.

I shall go my ways, tread out my measure, Fill the days of my daily breath With fugitive things not good to treasure, Do as the world doth, say as it saith; But if we had loved each other — O sweet, Had you felt, lying under the palms of your feet, The heart of my heart, beating harder with pleasure To feel you tread it to dust and death — Ah, had I not taken my life up and given All that life gives and the years let go, The wine and honey, the balm and leaven, The dreams reared high and the hopes brought low? Come life, come death, not a word be said; Should I lose you living, and vex you dead? I never shall tell you on earth; and in heaven, If I cry to you then, will you hear or know?

The sweetest flowers in all the world— A baby's hands.