Comes now, beneath thine eyes, and on thy breast.
Still kiss me! Care not for the cowards! Care
Only to put aside thy beauteous hair
My blood will hurt! The Three, I do not scorn
To death, because they never lived: but I
Have lived indeed, and so—(yet one more kiss)—can die!
ROBERT BROWNING.
THE INVITATION TO THE GONDOLA
Come forth; for Night is falling,
The moon hangs round and red