If I had loved them all, as I love you
Then life might not have been so much a waste,
For now, I find, it’s all that I can do
To make the most of what I’ve left to taste.

My youth has gone, and all I hoped to be
Which makes you precious, more, and by the hour,
For when we’re old, your scent will linger on
Like some long-faded, fragrant Spring-time flower.

And you will still be with me at the end,
When hopes and dreams and achings fade and rust
Young lovers then will lie upon some field
And scatter all our ashes into dust.

David Lewis Paget