Yet I did love thee to the last, As ferverently as thou, Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now. - Lord Byron

When one subtracts from life infancy (which is vegetation), sleep,eating and swilling, buttoning and unbuttoning — how much remains of downright existence? The summer of a dormouse.

I live,
But live to die; and, living, see no thing
To make death hateful, save an innate clinging,
A loathsome, and yet all invincible
Instinct of life, which I abhor, as I
Despise myself, yet cannot overcome––
And so I live. Would I had never lived!

To others' share let 'female errors fall,' For she had not even one — the worst of all.