Too, too late for the fond, believing lyre
When holy were the haunted forest boughs,
Holy the air, the water and the fire."
Keats.
Of this deity, poets have written until the God, become identified with the passion, which is addressed by many as immortal.
"They sin who tell us Love can die;
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity;
In heaven ambition cannot dwell
Nor avarice in the vaults of hell: