Words for the Chisel (collection)/Ballad of Typical Lovers
Ballad of Typical Lovers
They are untrue by fits and starts,
And each goes gray with grief;
They both break ardent beauty and their hearts
Believing love is brief;
And each goes gray with grief;
They both break ardent beauty and their hearts
Believing love is brief;
She wantons with a new man
Against the day love fails;
In hell, on a wooden woman,
The hangs with kisses for nails.
Against the day love fails;
In hell, on a wooden woman,
The hangs with kisses for nails.
And love is always under
Their feet, wherever they move;
Too late to mend their blunder
How sick they are now, of Love!
Their feet, wherever they move;
Too late to mend their blunder
How sick they are now, of Love!
They loathe each other and wonder
What strange thing has them bound:
What strange thing has them bound:
Too late, they grope and falter
Together, when they have found
The bond they aged to alter
Was solid as the ground.
Together, when they have found
The bond they aged to alter
Was solid as the ground.
Too late, too late;—for never
Will love be anything
But acrid flesh, forever,
And restlessness, in spring.
Will love be anything
But acrid flesh, forever,
And restlessness, in spring.