Limit.

Ay me! ay me! the woods decay and fall;

The vapours weep their burthen to the ground.

Man comes and tills the earth and lies beneath,

And after many a summer dies the swan.

Me only cruel immortality consumes:

I wither slowly in thine arms,

Here at the quiet limit,

Here at the quiet limit of the world.

A white-haired shadow roaming like a dream,

The ever silent spaces of the East.

Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.

Alfred Lord Tennyson, from "Tithonus"