Why are you fair? Is it because we know,
Your beauty stays but for another hour?
Why are you sweet? Is it because you show,
Even in the bud, the blasting of the flower?
Is it that we,
Already in the mind,
Too surely see
The thoughtless, ruthless, hurry of the wind
Scatter the petals of this perfect rose?

Why are you sad? Is it because our kisses,
That were so sweet in kissing, now are past?
But are not all things swift to pass as this is,
Which we desire to last?
Being too happy, we may not abide
Within the happiness, that we possess;
But needs are swept on by the ceaseless tide
Of Life's unwisdom, and of our distress:
As if, to all this crowd of ecstasies,
The present close
Were beauty faded, and deceived trust;
Locks, that no hands may braid; dull lifeless eyes,
Eyes, that have wept their lustre into dust.