Quote #39
The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.
More from Alexander Pope
- Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from every thorn.
- Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
- Say, is not absence death to those who love?
- Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away!
- Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade: Where'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs…
- Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
- Ye Gods! annihilate but space and time, And make two lovers happy.
- Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?