You have not conquered me—it is the surge <br />Of love itself that beats against my will; <br />It is the sting of conflict, the old urge <br />That calls me still. <br /> <br />It is not you I love—it is the form <br />And shadow of all lovers who have died <br />That gives you all the freshness of a warm <br />And unfamiliar bride. <br /> <br />It is your name I breathe, your hands I seek; <br />It will be you when you are gone. <br />And yet the dream, the name I never speak, <br />Is that that lures me on. <br /> <br />It is the golden summons, the bright wave <br />Of banners calling me anew; <br />It is all beauty, perilous and grave— <br />It is not you.<br /><br />Louis Untermeyer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/infidelity-23/
