Life, Breath and Hope Abide

When I was dewy-eyed I dreamt of love, of a kind of love fit for a virgin for whom romance betrays no vice or sin-- or for God to curse and speak evil of. But I, rebuked and reviled as from above by Providence, lost as Misfortunes won; Having quit all hope for love's boon, I spun myself astray on the wings of Lust's dove into the rough lap of a subtle whore, a strumpet to whom I gave my purity who mocked me and then grinned with the three-score more she's had,--I howled, "What cruel irony!" But so long as life, breath and hope abide, love will come; and when it comes--it'll provide!