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In Due Form

 I do not doubt you.
I know you love me.
It is a fact of your indoor face, A true fancy of your muscularity.
Your step is confident.
Your look is thorough.
Your stay-beside-me is a pillow To roll over on And sleep as on my own upon.
But make me a statement In due form on endless foolscap Witnessed before a notary And sent by post, registered, To be signed for on receipt And opened under oath to believe; An antique paper missing from my strong-box, A bond to clutch when hail tortures the chimney And lightning circles redder round the city, And your brisk step and thorough look Are gallant but uncircumstantial, And not mentionable in a doom-book.

by Laura Riding Jackson
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