Authors:
  • Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?
    For these red lips, with all their mournful pride,
    Mournful that no new wonder may betide,
    Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam,
    And Usna's children died.

    William Butler Yeats (2000). “The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats”, p.28, Wordsworth Editions