The day that you remember,
⁠The day that I forget.

The snake that hides and hisses
⁠In heaven we twain have known;
The grief of cruel kisses,
⁠The joy whose mouth makes moan;
The pulse's pause and measure,
⁠Where in one furtive vein
Throbs through the heart of pleasure
⁠The purpler blood of pain.

We have done with tears and treasons
⁠And love for treason's sake;
Room for the swift new seasons,
⁠The years that burn and break,
Dismantle and dismember
⁠Men's days and dreams, Juliette;
For love may not remember,
⁠But time will not forget.

Life treads down love in flying,
⁠Time withers him at root;
Bring all dead things and dying,
⁠Reaped sheaf and ruined fruit,
Where, crushed by three days' pressure,
⁠Our three days' love lies slain;
And earlier leaf of pleasure,
⁠And latter flower of pain.