Their sense is with their senses all mixed in, <br />Destroyed by subleties these women are! <br />More brain, O Lord, more brain! or we shall mar <br />Utterly this fair garden we might win. <br />Behold! I looked for peace, and thought it near. <br />Our inmost hearts had opened, each to each. <br />We drank the pure daylight of honest speech. <br />Alas I that was the fatal draught, I fear. <br />For when of my lost Lady came the word, <br />This woman, O this agony of flesh! <br />Jealous devotion bade her break the mesh, <br />That I might seek that other like a bird. <br />I do adore the nobleness! despise <br />The act! She has gone forth, I know not where. <br />Will the hard world my sentience of her share? <br />I feel the truth; so let the world surmise.<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-xlviii-their-sense/
