They say there's a high windless world and strange,
Out of the wash of days and temporal tide,
Where
Faith and Good, Wisdom and Truth abide,
`Aeterna corpora', subject to no change.
There the sure suns
of these pale shadows move;
There stand the immortal ensigns of our war;
Our melting flesh fixed Beauty
there, a star,
And perishing hearts, imperishable Love. . . .
Dear, we know only that we sigh, kiss, smile;
Each kiss lasts but the kissing; and grief goes over;
Love
has no habitation but the heart.
Poor straws! on the dark flood we catch awhile,
Cling, and are borne into
the night apart.
The laugh dies with the lips, `Love' with the lover.