XXIII
I would, beloved, that I knew a wayMisleading things to say.I'd mint my love into some golden guesses,And weave a web of pregnant prettinesses.First I would lure you in, then catch you out,Resolved to teach you doubt.
Is there a way to learn to hide our love,And so ourselves disprove?Can this great certainty be self-deniedAnd moulded to a plaything of our pride?And can we practise wanton abstinenceEven in self-defence?
How could I dull my voice and dim my eyeFaced by your mockery?How could I tame the tune and lull the light,And steal a fear, for you, from my own fright?When all the time you heard my thumping heart,Too wise to play a part?
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