Eat thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die. <br /> Surely the earth, that's wise being very old, <br /> Needs not our help. Then loose me, love, and hold <br /> Thy sultry hair up from my face; that I <br /> May pour for thee this golden wine, brim-high, <br /> Till round the glass thy fingers glow like gold. <br /> We'll drown all hours: thy song, while hours are toll'd, <br /> Shall leap, as fountains veil the changing sky. <br /> <br /> Now kiss, and think that there are really those, <br /> My own high-bosom'd beauty, who increase <br /> Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way! <br /> Through many years they toil; then on a day <br /> They die not,--for their life was death,--but cease; <br /> And round their narrow lips the mould falls close.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-house-of-life-71-the-choice-i/
