The lot of love is chosen. I learnt that much <br />Struggling for an image on the track <br />Of the whirling Zodiac. <br />Scarce did he my body touch, <br />Scarce sank he from the west <br />Or found a subtetranean rest <br />On the maternal midnight of my breast <br />Before I had marked him on his northern way, <br />And seemed to stand although in bed I lay. <br />I struggled with the horror of daybreak, <br />I chose it for my lot! If questioned on <br />My utmost pleasure with a man <br />By some new-married bride, I take <br />That stillness for a theme <br />Where his heart my heart did seem <br />And both adrift on the miraculous stream <br />Where -- wrote a learned astrologer -- <br />The Zodiac is changed into a sphere.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chosen/
