X. I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!” XI. I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hill’s side. XII. And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake, And no birds sing.
John KeatsLand and sea, weakness and decline are great separators, but death is the great divorcer for ever.
John KeatsWhere are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they? Think not of them; thou has thy music too.
John Keats