Love and Death

The Muse of Amherst took a ride

In Death's fine coach one day.

He tipped his hat and bid her come,

Then drove her past the setting sun.

When true love came to walk with me,

I took no time to stroll;

She straightened soon to walk away

And swept my comfort past.

So now I bide in loneliness

That wraps my tattered heart

And contemplate the passing of

The flame that lit my dark.

My reasons rise as on a wind,

And flash as quickly by,

For in their rushing wash I see

What naught can justify.

Had I learned the Lady's law,

To grab the moment's spark,

My heart might beat in happiness,

Not sob in doleful dark.

I would not walk with sweetest love,

Nor would she stay for me.

And so aimed I my journey's feet

At certain -- agony.

And now I drift toward my West

In chill intensity,

Bemused by the simple thought:

That Love wants -- mutuality.