Aubade by Edna St. Vincent Millay — Read

Cool and beautiful as the blossom of the wild carrot / With its crimson central eye, / Round and beautiful as the globe of the onion blossom / Were her pale breasts whereon I laid me down to die.

From the wound of my enemy that thrust me through in the dark wood / I arose; with sweat on my lip and the wild woodgrasses in my spur

I arose and stood.

But never did I arise from loving her.