I dore not always touch her, lest the kiss Leave my lips charred. Yea, Lord, a little bliss, Brief, bitter bliss, one hath for a great sin; Nathless thou knowest how sweet a thing it is.

And the best and the worst of this is That neither is most to blame, If you have forgotten my kisses And I have forgotten your name.

For words divide and rend But silence is most noble till the end.

I remember the way we parted, The day and the way we met; You hoped we were both broken-hearted And knew we should both forget.

Not with dreams, but with blood and with iron, Shall a nation be moulded at last.

Fruits fail and love dies and time ranges;Thou art fed with perpetual breath, and alive after infinite changes,And fresh from the kisses of death,Of langours rekindled and rallied, Of barren delights and unclean,Things monstrous and fruitless, a pallidAnd poisonous queen.

The sweetest flowers in all the world- A baby's hands.