Modern Love XXXV: It Is No Vulgar Nature
It is no vulgar nature I have wived.Secretive, sensitive, she takes a woundDeep to her soul, as if the sense had swooned,And not a thought of vengeance had survived.No confidences has she: but reliefMust come to one whose suffering is acute.O have a care of natures that are mute!They punish you in acts: their steps are brief.What is she doing? What does she demandFrom Providence or me? She is not oneLong to endure this torpidly, and shunThe drugs that crowd about a woman's hand.At Forfeits during snow we played, and IMust kiss her. 'Well performed!' I said: then she:''Tis hardly worth the money, you agree?'Save her? What for? To act this wedded lie!
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.