After trying many years, and then <br />near death, the able man may know <br />an image living in the alpine stone. <br />If at all, the high and new come slowly, <br />and, for us, they do not last so long. <br />Oh my beloved! nature's like that too, <br />who tried for beauty times untold <br />until she triumphed, and made you. <br />Yet by that token she is old <br />and almost at the end of her career. <br />So terror, which is always near <br />to beauty, feeds desire strange food. <br />My mind falls silent and no longer says <br />if joy or pain be more: the sight <br />of you calls forth the End of Days, <br />yet gives me great delight.<br /><br />Michelangelo Buonarroti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-trying-many-years/
