Don Juan 04-008
Canto the Fourth

 VIII

Young Juan and his lady-love were left
 To their own hearts' most sweet society;
Even Time the pitiless in sorrow cleft
 With his rude scythe such gentle bosoms; he
Sigh'd to behold them of their hours bereft,
 Though foe to love; and yet they could not be
Meant to grow old, but die in happy spring,
Before one charm or hope had taken wing.

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824) 
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