Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.
And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.
Strike when thou wilt, the hour of rest, but let my last days be my best.
In the morning of the world, When earth was nigher heaven than now.
A man in armor is his armor's slave.
Love is the energy of life.