The night has a thousand eyes,
      And the day but one;
 Yet the light of the bright world dies
      With the dying sun.

 The mind has a thousand eyes,
      And the heart but one:
 Yet the light of a whole life dies
       When love is done.

This poem beautifully expresses the
psyche of someone who could go into a
decline and die of unrequited love.

Although I am not one of those, it
is only thanks to exposure to such poems
that I have developed a measure of
tolerance for people with more sensibility
(a la Jane Austen) than I.

— Mallika

[If anyone has a biography, please do send it in. – martin]