She loved the games men played with death, Where death must win - Algernon Charles Swinburne

For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered is grief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

Our way is where God knows And Love knows where:
We are in Love's hand to-day.

Time and the Gods are at strife; ye dwell in the midst thereof,
Draining a little life from the barren breasts of love.