Old, familiar, but half-forgotten, Death
Appears before my aching soul afresh
With tender words, "Oh woman, cease to suffer.
Cease to care for what you won't attain
And would not want. In life there is no love
Advertisement
That will not vex, and vanish, when whims move,
And pleasure in life is merely lost in pain."
And there is no one who can comfort me
More than this lover who always comes to make
His offer. Yet I have refused each time to take
Him, stiffening from pride, or fear, or prudery,
Or perhaps I have so long remained unbending
Preferring ever the wooing to the ending. --Joan Isaacson
the words unspoken
shook the walls and rattled the window frames
Want to keep up with breaking news?
Subscribe to our email newsletter.
Read more in News
Seabrook: The Vegetable Garden War
