Annotations VAIN Death, thou hast no staying, Thou dost not lag behind Dear Life in thy decaying ; An instant thou dost claim My Dahlia's frame ; But this corruption that men call thy preying Is love that blows thee to the wind. Book traversal links for Vain Death, thou hast no staying ‹ There is a fair, white relic in my room Up Winds to-day are large and free ›
