Modern Love XX: I Am Not of Those

 I am not of those miserable males
Who sniff at vice and, daring not to snap,
Do therefore hope for heaven.
I take the hap Of all my deeds.
The wind that fills my sails Propels; but I am helmsman.
Am I wrecked, I know the devil has sufficient weight To bear: I lay it not on him, or fate.
Besides, he's damned.
That man I do suspect A coward, who would burden the poor deuce With what ensues from his own slipperiness.
I have just found a wanton-scented tress In an old desk, dusty for lack of use.
Of days and nights it is demonstrative, That, like some aged star, gleam luridly.
If for those times I must ask charity, Have I not any charity to give?

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