When my eyes are weeds, And my lips are petals, spinning Down the wind that has beginning Where the crumpled beeches start In a fringe of salty reeds;

She’s passing fair; but so demure… So quiet is her gown, so smooth he… That few there are who note her an… She’s passing fair. Yet when was ever beauty held more…

A nobler king had never breath– I say it now, and said it then. Who weds with such is wed till dea… And wedded stays in Heaven. Amen. (And oh, the shirts of linen-lawn,

Oh, when I flung my heart away, The year was at its fall. I saw my dear, the other day, Beside a flowering wall; And this was all I had to say:

Once, when I was young and true, Someone left me sad– Broke my brittle heart in two; And that is very bad. Love is for unlucky folk,

If it shine or if it rain, Little will I care or know. Days, like drops upon a pane, Slip, and join, and go. At my door’s another lad;

Love has had his way with me. This my heart is torn and maimed Since he took his play with me. Cruel well the bow-boy aimed, Shot, and saw the feathered shaft

Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat; My dress is 1922.... My life is all like that.

Accursed from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bed– I think they would be better dead.

Should they whisper false of you. Never trouble to deny; Should the words they say be true, Weep and storm and swear they lie.

Some men break your heart in two, Some men fawn and flatter, Some men never look at you; And that cleans up the matter.

Go I must along my ways Though my heart be ragged, Dripping bitter through the days, Festering, and jagged. Smile I must at every twinge,

In May my heart was breaking– Oh, wide the wound, and deep! And bitter it beat at waking, And sore it split in sleep. And when it came November,

I shall tread, another year, Ways I walked with Grief, Past the dry, ungarnered ear And the brittle leaf. I shall stand, a year apart,

Oh, mercifullest one of all, Oh, generous as dear, None lived so lowly, none so small… Thou couldst withhold thy tear: How swift, in pure compassion,