THE LAST ILLUSION by JOHN COWPER POWYS

We only played at love;
That's not the link between us;
Love's ashes nothing prove;
That's how the world has seen us.

Under the cinders cold
Of that light-kindled spark
The eternal flame has rolled
And fused us in the dark.

On then with your deadly wit
And the darts of your glacial eyes!
Mock love and slander it
Where under the dust it lies!

For I, I can bear your scorn
As I follow wandering fires,
Driven like all men born
By unredeemed desires;

And you, you can bear my mild
Submission to your taunts;
My pose of an injured child,
Mixed with unseemly vaunts.

For we both know well, -- though it stings,
And we'll mock at it to the last;
That under these casual things
Something holds us fast.

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