Explore "Love's Last Adieu" by Lord Byron on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The roses of love glad the garden of life, / Though nurtured 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew, / Till time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, / Or prunes them for ever, in love's last adieu!
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart, / In vain do we vow for an age to be true; / The chance of an hour may command us to part, / Or death disunite us in love's last adieu!