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...A MINUET OF MOZART'S by SARA TEASDALE THE SEA LOVER by SARA TEASDALE A TRAGIC STORY by ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO BIRTHDAY OF DANIEL WEBSTER by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES INSCRIPTIONS: 8 by MARK AKENSIDE HIS VICTORY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE CRUX VIA CAELORUM: 3 by PATRICK CAREY TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. SUNDAY MORNING AFTER CHURCH by EDWARD CARPENTER |