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That Love at length should find me out & bring
by
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Lyrics
That Love at length should find me out and bring This fierce and trivial brow unto the dust Is, after all, I must confess, but just; There is a subtle beauty in this thing, A wry perfection; wherefore now let sing All voices how into my throat is thrust, Unwelcome as Death's own, Love's bitter crust, All criers proclaim it, and all steeples ring. This being done, there let the matter rest. What more remains is neither here nor there. That you requite me not is plain to see; Myself your slave herein I have confessed: Thus far, indeed, the world may mock at me; But if I suffer, it is my own affair.
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