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George Gordon Byron - Love`s Last Adieu
Work rating: Medium

The roses of love glad the garden of life, 
    Though nurtured `mid weeds dropping pestilent dew, 
Till time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, 
    Or prunes them for ever, in love`s last adieu! 

In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart, 
    In vain do we vow for an age to be true; 
The chance of an hour may command us to part, 
    Or death disunite us in love`s last adieu! 

Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast, 
    Will whisper, `Our meeting we yet may renew:` 
With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow`s represt, 
    Nor taste we the poison, of love`s last adieu! 

Oh! mark you yon pair: in the sunshine of youth, 
    Love twined round their childhood his flowers as they grew; 
They flourish awhile, in the season of truth, 
    Till chill`d by the winter of love`s last adieu! 

Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way, 
    Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue? 
Yet why do I ask?---to distraction a prey, 
    Thy reason has perish`d with love`s last adieu! 

Oh! who is yon misanthrope, shunning mankind? 
    From cities to caves of the forest he flew: 
There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind,
    The mountains reverberate love`s last adieu! 

Now hate rules a heart which in love`s easy chains, 
    Once passion`s tumultuous blandishments knew; 
Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins;
    He ponders in frenzy on love`s last adieu! 

How he envies the wretch with a soul wrapt in steel! 
    His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few, 
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel, 
    And dreads not the anguish of love`s last adieu! 

Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o`ercast; 
    No more, with love`s former devotion, we sue: 
He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast; 
    The shroud of affection is love`s last adieu!

In this life of probation, for rapture divine, 
    Astrea declares that some penance is due; 
From him, who has worshipp`d at love`s gentle shrine, 
    The atonement is ample in love`s last adieu! 

Who kneels to the god, on his altar of light 
    Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew: 
His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight, 
    His cypress, the garland of love`s last adieu!
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