LAST night I lay disgusted, sick at heart, Beside a sodden woman of the street: Who drowsed, oblivious of. the dreadful mart, Her outraged body and her blistered feet. I could not sleep. I lay awake all night, Questioning again that grey old puzzle, life: Was this the sordid end of passion's might, This purchase? Or the purchase of a wife? And then I thought: No one can love alone, Love singly in no human heart can dwell: Ere it is caught, 'tis lost, ere come 'tis gone, It is a slave, which all men buy and sell: The wives their bodies barter for a ring, For one man's care, a home, maternity; The husbands seek to rid them of the sting Of sex, or they would happy fathers be. So all sell love for some low earthly gift; What matter then, what I have sold it for? If I should strive from earth my soul to lift, Soon must it fall back to the earth once more. All hope is an illusion, sad and vain: Alike in essence diamond and clod. Pure love is not, all things on earth have stain: My soul and hers are as the same to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BARBER'S by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE GOOD FRIDAY (1) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI CLANCY OF THE MOUNTED POLICE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE KING HERMANDIAZ by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON ON READING A POET'S FIRST BOOK by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER LINES ON THE GRAVE OF A SUICIDE by THOMAS CAMPBELL |