(Two lovers stand tall with hands held fast,
and watch the red sun, arise from the grass.
She turns to him with eyes full of sorrow;
his look is confused, as if asking to know.)
“Tis so great a joy to stand by your side,
but now I must go, and to the village ride.
A will to stay and a need to go,
do battle now in my soul of souls.
The will is a darling, lovely and tall,
but, Alas! the need comes to conquer us all.
Like a poor mother, feel I at this cruel moment,
who is dragged from her child haggard and bent.
Her love is so strong, but no match for the steel,
which binds fast her hands, and drags her to keel.”
“Then the mother breaks free, for love conquers all,
and cupid descends, engaging guards in brawl.
Then mortal hands crumble 'neath his awesome weight,
just as love can bend steel to the point which it breaks.”
“Please lover, do not fill this departure with pain,
for your words are like arrows, poisoned with shame.
Love is a powerful beast; I do concede,
but duty does trump all lover’s creed.”
“Oh lady, I could not more wholly agree,
with this, most true of philosophies,
For I feel that lovers share a sacred duty,
which surely compel thee to stand with me.”
“Oh look at the sun, it rises too fast,
please let this meeting, be not our last.”
(And with that she mounted and rode straight away,
leaving her lover like a lonely hound to bay.
But bay he did not; too wretched for words,
he stood there alone, romantic and absurd.
‘He which hath business, and makes love, doth do
Such wrong as when a married man doth woo.’
Words spoken near four centuries ago;
Oh that John Donne, he really did know!)