Lost Golden Prizes

                   Lost Golden Prizes

“from longing for the loves too high to gain”  ~  Pindar, Pyth. IV, 92

         

                       

That man or woman that you wanted so,

So much that swelling of your heart made pain

A palpable impression, caused a glow

Of agony that brought to ribs a strain

That almost held a taste, the flavor of

The  greatest disappointments, pumped there in

The nearest marrow, that battering love

Is not the outcome of some little sin.

This kind of love is wickedness, a grief

As great as Lucifer’s.   It just can’t get

What it torments itself for.   No relief

Will come its way.  It harbours only threat.

  Such men or women think themselves too high.

    Their beauty swerves, too sacred to comply.