I wonít beg for your love: itís laid
Safely to rest, let the earth settle Ö
Donít expect my jealous letters
Pouring in to plague your bride.
But let me, nevertheless, advise you:
Give her my poems to read in bed,
Give her my portraits to keep Ė itís wise to
Be kind like that when newly-wed.
For itís more needful to such geese
To know that they have won completely
Than to have converse light and sweet or
Honeymoons of remembered bliss Ö
When you have spent your kopecks worth
Of happiness with your new friend,
And like a taste that sates the mouth
Your soul has recognised the end Ė
Donít come crawling like a whelp
Into my bed of loneliness.
I donít know you. Nor could I help.
Iím not yet cured of happiness.
(from Rosary 1914)††††††