WHEN the game began between them for a jest, <br />He played king and she played queen to match the best; <br />Laughter soft as tears, and tears that turned to laughter, <br />These were things she sought for years and sorrowed after. <br /> <br />Pleasure with dry lips, and pain that walks by night; <br />All the sting and all the stain of long delight; <br />These were things she knew not of, that knew not of her, <br />When she played at half a love with half a lover. <br /> <br />Time was chorus, gave them cues to laugh or cry; <br />They would kill, befool, amuse him, let him die; <br />Set him webs to weave to-day and break to-morrow, <br />Till he died for good in play, and rose in sorrow. <br /> <br />What the years mean; how time dies and is not slain; <br />How love grows and laughs and cries and wanes again; <br />These were things she came to know, and take their measure, <br />When the play was played out so for one man’s pleasure.<br /><br />Algernon Charles Swinburne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stage-love/
