The Mother’s Tragedy

74 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE Dislike, disgust (you say repulsers) Link me to thee despite—because of—this Skeleton key to charnel-house. My kiss Is the dog’s kiss to Lazarus his ulcers! Mock me, ye clinging lovers, at your peril! God turns to dust the blossom of your youth. The fruit of lust is poisonous with—truth! Its immortality is—to be sterile! This lie of Love hath no abiding: ‘‘Two loves are ended; one, the infant band, Rises more splendid.” Spin the rope of sand! Two loves are one; but O to their dividing! Fertility—distaste’s adoption ! Her body’s growth—desire’s mortality! I look and loathe. Behold how lovers die, And immortality puts on corruption!