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.