Discretion

Ah, turn your pretty eyes away! You would not have me love again? Love’s pleasure does not live a day, Immortal is Love’s pain, And I am tired of pain.

I have loved once--aye, once or twice; The pleasure died, the pain lives here; I will not look in your sweet eyes, I will not love you, Dear, Lest you should grow too dear.

For I am weary and afraid. Have I not seen why life was fair, And known how good a world God made, How sweet the blossoms were, How dear the green fields were?

And I have found how life was gray, A mist-hung road, a quest in vain, Until once more Love smiled my way And fooled me once again, And taught me grief again.

Now I will gather no more grief; I only ask to see the sky, The budding flower, the budding leaf, And put old dreamings by, The dreams Love tortures by.

For, being wise, I love no more; You, if you will, snare with those eyes Some fool who never loved before, And teach him to be wise! For why should you be wise?