Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/67

The misconceived and the misbegotten,
⁠I would find a sin to do ere I die,
Sure to dissolve and destroy me all through,
That would set you higher in heaven, serve you
And leave you happy, when clean forgotten,
⁠As a dead man out of mind, am I.

Your lithe hands draw me, your face burns through me,
⁠I am swift to follow you, keen to see;
But love lacks might to redeem or undo me;
⁠As I have been, I know I shall surely be;
"What should such fellows as I do?" Nay,
My part were worse if I chose to play;
For the worst is this after all; if they knew me,
⁠Not a soul upon earth would pity me.

And I play not for pity of these; but you,
⁠If you saw with your soul what man am I,
You would praise me at least that my soul all through
⁠Clove to you, loathing the lives that lie;
The souls and lips that are bought and sold,
The smiles of silver and kisses of gold,
The lapdog loves that whine as they chew,
⁠The little lovers that curse and cry.

There are fairer women, I hear; that may be;
⁠But I, that I love you and find you fair,
Who are more than fair in my eyes if they be,
⁠Do the high gods know or the great gods care?