"Hapless doom of woman happy in betrothing"
di Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)

Hapless doom of woman happy in betrothing,
Beauty passes like a breath and love is lost in loathing;
Low! my lute: speak low, but say the world is nothing.
Low! lute, low!
Love will hover round the flowers when they first awaken;
Love will fly the fallen leaf, and not be overtaken;
Low, my lute! O low, my lute! we fade and are forsaken.
Low, dear lute, low!