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Thomas Hardy - Revulsion
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THOUGH I waste watches framing words to fetter
       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.

     For winning love we win the risk of losing,
       And losing love is as one`s life were riven;
     It cuts like contumely and keen ill-using
       To cede what was superfluously given.

     Let me then feel no more the fateful thrilling
       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.
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