Death

Quote from English poet A.C. Swinburne's [1837-1909] "A Ballad of Death":

[...]

Kings bowed themselves and shed 

Pale wine, and honey with the honeycomb, 

And spikenard bruised for a burnt-offering; 

Even she between whose lips the kiss became 

As fire and frankincense; 

Whose hair was as gold raiment on a king, 

Whose eyes were as the morning purged with flame, 

Whose eyelids as sweet savour issuing thence.

[...]