Oh Poesy! for you I grab a pen

Stop and consider! life is but a day;
A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way
From a tree's summit

And can I ever bid these joys farewell?
Yes, I must pass them for a nobler life,
Where I may find the agonies, the strife
Of human hearts

Is there so small a range
In the present strength of manhood, that the high
Imagination cannot freely fly

Sleep and Poetry - John Keats

The summer's flow'r is to the summer sweet,
though to itself it only live and die

Sonnet 94, Shakespeare