Peoms with The Ballad of Reading Gaol — Oscar Wilde

Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard Some do it with a bitter look Some with a flattering word The coward does it with a kiss The brave man with a sword Some kill their love when they are young And some when they are old Some strangle with the hands of Lust Some with the hands of Gold The kindest use a knife because The dead so soon grow cold Some love too little some too long Some sell and others buy Some do the deed with many tears And some without a sigh For each man kills the thing he loves Yet each man does not die

Peoms with The Ballad of Reading Gaol Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard Some do it with a bitter look Some with a flattering word The coward does it with a kiss The brave man with a sword Some kill their love when they are young And some when they are old Some strangle with the hands of Lust Some with the hands of Gold The kindest use a knife because The dead so soon grow cold Some love too little some too long Some sell and others buy Some do the deed with many tears And some without a sigh For each man kills the thing he loves Yet each man does not die