| Compact... Robert Graves... |
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My love for you, though true, wears the extravagance of centuries; Your love for me id fragrant, simple and millennial. Smiling without a word, you watch my extravagances pass; To check them would be presumptious and unmaidenly- As it were using me like an ill-bred schoolboy. |
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Dear Live-Apart, when I sit confused by the active spites Tormenting me with too close sympathy for fools, Too dark a rage against hidden plotters of evil, Too sour a mind, or soused with sodden wool-bales- I turn my eyes to the light smoke drifting from your fire. |
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Our settled plan has been: never to make plans- The future, present and past being already settled Beyond review or interpretative conjecture By the first decision of truth that we clasped hands upon: To conserve a purity of soul each for the other. |
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