From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no man lives forever, That dead… - Algernon Charles Swinburne

That no life lives forever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.

I remember the way we parted,
The day and the way we met;
You hoped we were both broken-hearted
And knew we should both forget.

To wipe off the froth of falsehood from the foaming lips of inebriated virtue, when fresh from the sexless orgies of morality and reeling from the delirious riot of religion, may doubtless be a charitable office.

If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together, In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or grey grief; If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf.