Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp, <br />Let's grimly kiss with bated breath; <br />As quietly and solemnly <br />As Life when it is kissing Death. <br />Now in the silence of the grave, <br />My hand is squeezing that soft breast; <br />While thou dost in such passion lie, <br />It mocks me with its look of rest. <br /> <br />But when the morning comes at last, <br />And we must part, our passions cold, <br />You'll think of some new feather, scarf <br />To buy with my small piece of gold; <br />And I'll be dreaming of green lanes, <br />Where little things with beating hearts <br />Hold shining eyes between the leaves, <br />Till men with horses pass, and carts.<br /><br />William Henry Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-fleeting-passion/
