Oh! woe is me for beauty idly blown! <br />And woe for passionate youth and joys that wait! <br />And woe for foolish love that is undone <br />By woman's fear, and fortune come too late! <br />And woe for empty words and hours that were <br />Squandered in weeping! Woe, because of Death <br />Who was at hand, and, while joy languished near <br />Fearing to enter, quickly from its sheath <br />Drew out his sword and laid its point unto <br />That virgin breast, and there in stern embrace <br />Did all that happiness had dared not do, <br />Rifling the treasures of that holy place, <br />And heeding not Love's shriek. Alas, poor Love! <br />Death will not spare what thou hast spared to prove.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/natalia-s-resurrection-sonnet-i/
