Oscar Wilde 
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.