Thomas Hardy (1840–1928). Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
12. Revulsion
T
Some spirit to mine own in clasp and kiss,
Out of the night there looms a sense ’twere better
To fail obtaining whom one fails to miss.
And losing love is as one’s life were riven;
It cuts like contumely and keen ill-using
To cede what was superfluously given.
That devastates the love-worn wooer’s frame,
The hot ado of fevered hopes, the chilling
That agonizes disappointed aim!
So may I live no junctive law fulfilling,
And my heart’s table bear no woman’s name.