| I NEVER asked you to be perfect—did I?— | |
| Though often I’ve called you sweet, in the invasion | |
| Of mastering love. I never prayed that you | |
| Might stand, unsoiled, angelic and inhuman, | |
| Pointing the way toward Sainthood like a sign-post. | 5 |
| |
| Oh yes, I know the way to heaven was easy. | |
| We found the little kingdom of our passion | |
| That all can share who walk the road of lovers. | |
| In wild and secret happiness we stumbled; | |
| And gods and demons clamoured in our senses. | 10 |
| |
| But I’ve grown thoughtful now. And you have lost | |
| Your early-morning freshness of surprise | |
| At being so utterly mine: you’ve learned to fear | |
| The gloomy, stricken places in my soul, | |
| And the occasional ghosts that haunt my gaze. | 15 |
| |
| You made me glad; and I can still return | |
| To you, the haven of my lonely pride: | |
| But I am sworn to murder those illusions | |
| That blossom from desire with desperate beauty: | |
| And there shall be no falsehood in our failure; | 20 |
| Since, if we loved like beasts, the thing is done, | |
| And I’ll not hide it, though our heaven be hell. | |
| |
| You dream long liturgies of our devotion. | |
| Yet, in my heart, I dread our love’s destruction. | |
| But, should you grow to hate me, I would ask | 25 |
| No mercy of your mood: I’d have you stand | |
| And look me in the eyes, and laugh, and smite me. | |
| |
| Then I should know, at least, that truth endured, | |
| Though love had died of wounds. And you could leave me | |
| Unvanquished in my atmosphere of devils. | 30 |
