Author Rudyard Kipling Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail, A spectre at my door, Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail -- I shall but love you more, Who, from Death's House returning, give me still One moment's comfort in my matchless ill. Tags house fear death night love love poem love poems love poems for her love poetry poems about love romantic poems Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments