In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
John KeatsFaded the flower and all its budded charms,Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise!Vanishd unseasonably
John KeatsYou are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.
John Keats