Oh! woe is me for beauty idly blown! And woe for passionate youth and joys that wait! And woe for foolish love that is undone By woman`s fear, and fortune come too late! And woe for empty words and hours that were Squandered in weeping! Woe, because of Death Who was at hand, and, while joy languished near Fearing to enter, quickly from its sheath Drew out his sword and laid its point unto That virgin breast, and there in stern embrace Did all that happiness had dared not do, Rifling the treasures of that holy place, And heeding not Love`s shriek. Alas, poor Love! Death will not spare what thou hast spared to prove.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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