All beauteous things for which we live
By laws of time and space decay. But oh, the very reason why I clasp them, is because they die. |
Jolly boating weather, / And a hay harvest breeze, / Blade on the feather, / Shade off the trees. |
They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, / They brought me bitter news to hear, and bitter tears to shed. |
Your chilly stars I can forgo,
This warm kind world is all I know. |