The Risks of Love
THE RISKS OF LOVE
It was a hostile land in those days, singing
Of our dream of a house, clinging
To something we could believe in,
Rooted in the soft rocks so that even
The breath of the earth itself was muffled.
Precarious, tenacious, cliff-edged -
Dwelling there for three score years of nights
And never a pause taking from its delights;
Never choosing to deny the thrill of waking,
Or surrendering our siren-held souls, or shaking
Off our thraldom. 'Twas the perfect foil
To the ever-present harshness and soil
Of the reality on solid ground.
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