#poetry Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, Is this to be immortal? To never die, Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores, And all the luscious fruits which it doth bear, To know no satiety? To hear the call Of the eternal, and to answer it, Is this to live for ever? This is to live for ever.