Roses, rooted warm in earth, <br /> Bud in rhyme, another age; <br />Lilies know a ghostly birth <br /> Strewn along a patterned page; <br />Golden lad and chimbley sweep <br /> Die; and so their song shall keep. <br /> <br />Wind that in Arcadia starts <br /> In and out a couplet plays; <br />And the drums of bitter hearts <br /> Beat the measure of a phrase. <br />Sweets and woes but come to print <br /> Quae cum ita sint.<br /><br />Dorothy Parker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-on-reading-too-many-poets/
