Classic Poem

Seldom I honor the dark wife
Appointed me for bale or bliss.
No bounds are set upon our strife;
The present is our fleeting kiss.

Her passionate will has made me halt.
Her triumph is my lost desire.
On stairs of marble and basalt
She holds me down a burning fire.

We two shall walk the earth at noon
And when the sun is lying dead.
Our way beneath the sun and moon
Inevitably lies ahead.

Our way with outcast gods is seen,
August, but by calamity.
Her head is bowed for what has been,
And mine for what will never be.