No, I will go alone. <br />I will come back when it's over. <br />Yes, of course I love you. <br />No, it will not be long. <br />Why may you not come with me?— <br />You are too much my lover. <br />You would put yourself <br />Between me and song. <br /> <br />If I go alone, <br />Quiet and suavely clothed, <br />My body will die in its chair, <br />And over my head a flame, <br />A mind that is twice my own, <br />Will mark with icy mirth <br />The wise advance and retreat <br />Of armies without a country, <br />Storming a nameless gate, <br />Hurling terrible javelins down <br />From the shouting walls of a singing town <br /> <br />Where no women wait! <br />Armies clean of love and hate, <br />Marching lines of pitiless sound <br />Climbing hills to the sun and hurling <br />Golden spears to the ground! <br />Up the lines a silver runner <br />Bearing a banner whereon is scored <br />The milk and steel of a bloodless wound <br />Healed at length by the sword! <br /> <br />You and I have nothing to do with music. <br />We may not make of music a filigree frame, <br />Within which you and I, <br />Tenderly glad we came, <br />Sit smiling, hand in hand. <br /> <br />Come now, be content. <br />I will come back to you, I swear I will; <br />And you will know me still. <br />I shall be only a little taller <br />Than when I went.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-concert/
