I never asked you to be perfect—did I?— <br />Though often I’ve called you sweet, in the invasion <br />Of mastering love. I never prayed that you <br />Might stand, unsoiled, angelic and inhuman, <br />Pointing the way toward Sainthood like a sign-post. <br /> <br />Oh yes, I know the way to heaven was easy. <br />We found the little kingdom of our passion <br />That all can share who walk the road of lovers. <br />In wild and secret happiness we stumbled; <br />And gods and demons clamoured in our senses. <br /> <br />But I’ve grown thoughtful now. And you have lost <br />Your early-morning freshness of surprise <br />At being so utterly mine: you’ve learned to fear <br />The gloomy, stricken places in my soul, <br />And the occasional ghosts that haunt my gaze. <br /> <br />You made me glad; and I can still return <br />To you, the haven of my lonely pride: <br />But I am sworn to murder those illusions <br />That blossom from desire with desperate beauty: <br />And there shall be no falsehood in our failure; <br />Since, if we loved like beasts, the thing is done, <br />And I’ll not hide it, though our heaven be hell. <br /> <br />You dream long liturgies of our devotion. <br />Yet, in my heart, I dread our love’s destruction. <br />But, should you grow to hate me, I would ask <br />No mercy of your mood: I’d have you stand <br />And look me in the eyes, and laugh, and smite me. <br /> <br />Then I should know, at least, that truth endured, <br />Though love had died of wounds. And you could leave me <br />Unvanquished in my atmosphere of devils.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-imperfect-lover/
