Let me go: take back thy gift: Why should a man desire in any way To vary from the kindly race of men, Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance Where all should pause, as is most meet for all? ...Why wilt thou ever scare me with thy tears, And make me tremble lest a saying learnt, In days far-off, on that dark earth, be true? ‘The Gods themselves cannot recall their gifts.’ - Tithonus

Of happy men that have the power to die, And grassy barrows of the happier dead.

What! I should call on that Infinite Love that has served us so well? Infinite cruelty rather, that made everlasting hell, Made us, foreknew us, foredoom'd us, and does what he will with his own; Better our dead brute mother who never has heard us groan.

From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent.

Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.

If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?

But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.