| Thomas Hardy (1840–1928). Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898. |
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| 12. Revulsion |
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| THOUGH I waste watches framing words to fetter | |
| Some spirit to mine own in clasp and kiss, | |
| Out of the night there looms a sense ’twere better | |
| To fail obtaining whom one fails to miss. | |
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| For winning love we win the risk of losing, | 5 |
| And losing love is as one’s life were riven; | |
| It cuts like contumely and keen ill-using | |
| To cede what was superfluously given. | |
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| Let me then feel no more the fateful thrilling | |
| That devastates the love-worn wooer’s frame, | 10 |
| The hot ado of fevered hopes, the chilling | |
| That agonizes disappointed aim! | |
| So may I live no junctive law fulfilling, | |
And my heart’s table bear no woman’s name.
1866. | |
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