For incensed love breathes quick and dies, When famished love a-lingering lies. — Thomas Hardy

Yet saw he something in the lives

Of those who'd ceased to live

That rounded them with majesty

Which living failed to give.

You may prate of your prowess in lusty times,

But as years gnaw inward you blink your bays,

And see too well your crimes!

For winning love we win the risk of losing,

And losing love is as one's life were riven.