Lovers, lunatics. There must be truth In that ironic quip. I am a youth Who prides himself on wisdom, yet it seems That I am now more mad than futile dreams. But I am puzzled. Since a lover must Be crazy, why is that you would trust No man, despite your saying that you love Me? I believe you make a fitting glove Of that colossal feeling that you call Love. For whenever it becomes a pall, You simply take the glove off. It is strange That you can find it so facile to change At will these whims of yours. I fear that you Are really not in love, for if you knew And felt that subtle stab, you would not be So ordered and so easy, nor so free. You would not care if I should any day Allow myself to have my sweeping way With you. You would not mind if I should do A thing I realize I ought not to! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WRECK OF THE CIRCUS TRAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH I'M GOING BACK TO SOMETHING by DAVID IGNATOW AN EXPLANATION by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: BARNEY HAINSFEATHER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OLD TRAILS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |