I wonder that this world should rue itself,
Such angry, bullying winds, such grumbling skies,
Shoulders hunched against its skulking greys.
You could strive for paradise, yearn for it, and lose.
Maybe our way, darling, is fine enough,
Idle in innocence, unambitious, in love.
This other place – this yawning, dreamy gulf
Of sleepy seas – it came to us by fate.
You thought me charming, I thought you were cute.
Perhaps partaking of slightly different fruits,
With stranger temptations, it might have been
That two men would not care to lose an Eden.