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Edith Nesbit - Over And Done
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WE might have held back from Love`s draught divine 
    For many a wistful sad-and-happy day, 
    Tasting the voluntary sweet delay 
Of lips that at the cup`s edge touch the wine, 
Yet will not drink, knowing that when the fine 
    Eagerly tasted thirst grows pain, they may 
    Drink deep. We might have missed Love`s only way, 
And thou and I been never mine and thine. 


Instead, we sprang straight to the hidden shrine, 
    Nor lingered in the temple`s outer part; 
    We plucked our rose to die upon our heart, 
Nor left it on its tree to slowly pine: 
It dies more quickly, for our heart is hot; 
But, oh, if we had seen, yet plucked it not!
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