Robert Graves
How often have I said before
That no soft ‘if,’ nor ‘either-or,’
Can keep my obdurate male mind
From loving true and flying blind?-
Which, though deranged beyond all cure
Of temporal reason, knows for sure
That timeless magic first began
When woman bared her soul to man.
Be bird, be blossom, comet, star,
Be paradisal gates ajar,
But still, as woman, bear you must
With you alone endures your trust.
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