Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell. - Dante Gabriel Rossetti

If the light is
It is because God said 'Let there be light.'

Now kiss, and think that there are really those, My own high-bosom'd beauty, who increase Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way! Through many years they toil; then on a day They die not, — for their life was death, — but cease; And round their narrow lips the mould falls close.

Think thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die Outstretch'd in the sun's warmth upon the shore, Thou say'st: "Man's measur'd path is all gone o'er: Up all his years, steeply, with strain and sigh, Man clomb until he touch'd the truth; and I, Even I, am he whom it was destin'd for." How should this be? Art thou then so much more Than they who sow'd, that thou shouldst reap thereby?