Into the sunset’s turquoise marge The moon dips, like a pearly barge; Enchantment sails through magic seas, To fairyland Hesperides, Over the hills a… - Madison Cawein

Why will we struggle to attain, and strive
When all we gain is but an empty dream?—
Better, unto my thinking, doth it seem
To end it all and let who will survive;<p>To find at last all beauty is but dust;
That love and sorrow are the very same;
That joy is only suffering's sweeter name;
And sense is but the synonym of lust.<p>Far better, yea, it seems to me to die;
To set glad lips against the lips of Death—
The only thing God gives that comforteth,
The only thing we do not find a lie.

What magic shall solve us the secret
Of beauty that’s born for an hour?

Some shall reap that never sow;
And some shall toil and not attain.