Verse-making was least of my virtues: I viewed with despair
Wealth that never yet was but might be–all that verse-making were
If the life would but lengthen to wish, let the mind be laid bare.
So I said, “To do little is bad, to do nothing is worse”–
And made verse.
Love-making,–how simple a matter! No depths to explore,
No heights in a life to ascend! No disheartening Before,
No affrighting Hereafter,–love now will be love ever more.
So I felt “To keep silence were folly:”–all language above,
I made love.
