(From Christophe des Laurières)

Harder is this to bear than love's own pain—
That love and even pain alike shall pass
Nor haply come again.
Ah, can we seize the moonlight on the grass,
Or bid the shadow stay
Beneath the growing day?
Give me thy mouth to kiss,
Give me thy breasts to hold
Ere love's desire and love's delight grow old
And the last sun go down upon the last abyss.
Ah, share thy body and its joy with me,
So, if the moments pass,
At least they shall not pass too emptily.