Cold and clean and naked and so dead.
But surely I can never dare to deem
That for the flame there will not soon be lead.
The gifts of any memorable night
Are insufficient. Time will put aside
The record of those hours; Death deride
The laughter caught in their swift-plucked delight.
Life fades; they fade;
The moon returns; we singly retrograde
Turn to discover what is gone from sight.