With cold Spring rains to chill me through and through
Pelting across the mountains, purging away
Affection for a fault, restoring faith....
So God is Love? Admitted; still the thought
Is Dead Sea fruit to angry baffled lovers
Lying sleepless and alone in double beds,
Shaken in mind, harassed with hot blood fancies.
Break the ideal, and the animal’s left
Which this ideal stood as mask to hide.
Then the hot blood with no law hindering it