THE SQUIRE OF DAMES TO HIS LADY

Why should our meeting borrow A sense of shame or sorrow That each must go his way? Love liketh no fetter Therefore our roads were better If you go yours to-morrow, And I go mine to-day. I hold you for a minute— You’d catch the hour and pin it— But if I held you longer Would you have more assurance In days of richer durance, Life with more rapture in it, Passion more wise and stronger? The Daughter of Illusion Hath made our love seem fusion Of two strange things in one— But loving hath not taught her That strange as fire to water, Love becomes bleak intrusion When all the glamor’s gone. You say I’ve brought you sorrow And pay not debts I borrow— But mirth is what’s to pay! So part our paths in laughter, And, since your heart is softer, You go your way to-morrow— And I’ll go mine to-day.