
The Spark
Stamp hard, be sureWe leave no sparkThat may allureThis placid dark.At last we learnThat love is cruel;Fire will not burnLacking fuel.
Here, take your heart,The whole of it;I want no part,No smallest bit.And this is mine?You took scant care;My heart could shine;No glaze was there.
Young lips hold wineThe fair world over;New heads near mineWill dent the clover;We need not pineNow this is over.
Now love is deadWe might be friends;’Tis best insteadTo say all ends,And when we meetPass quickly by;Oh, speed your feet,And so will I.
I know a manThought a spark was deadThat flamed and ranA brighter red,And burned the roofAbove his head.
