No New Place for Love
From Stratford-Upon-Avon I sent: “This
is” Shakespeare noted,”the monstrosity
Of love, . . . that the will is infinite,” bliss
Is huge, but though its existence is free,
The “execution” is “confin’d” so that
Although “desire is boundless” still “the act”
Is but “a slave to limit.” We combat
It every way we can, but still the fact
Is love must fail. Is that the message which
I meant to send? I doubt I thought it out,
No more than Romeo, at highest pitch
Of frenzy, was anything but devout.
The swans on Avon move their webs beneath
The water, never thinking of pikes’ teeth.