Time found our tired love sleeping,
And kissed away his breath;
But what should we do weeping,
Though light love sleep to death?
We have drained his lips at leisure,
Till there's not left to drain
A single sob of pleasure,
A single pulse of pain.

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Algernon Charles Swinburne (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.