To Giulia Grisi

by Nathaniel Parker Willis

When the rose is brightest,
    Its bloom will soonest die;
When burns the meteor brightest,
    'T will vanish from the sky.
If Death but wait until delight
    O'errun the heart like wine,
And break the cup with brimming quite,
I die—for thou has poured to-night
    The last drop into mine.