ROMNEY

Nay, Romney, nay — I will not hear you say

Those words again: “I love you, love you sweet!”

You are profane — blasphemous. I repeat,

You are no actor for so grand a play.

You love with all your heart? Well, that may be;

Some cups are fashioned shallow. Should I try

To quench my thirst from one of those, when dry -

I who have had a full bowl proffered me -

A new bowl brimming with a draught divine,

One single taste thrilled to the finger-tips?

Think you I even care to bathe my lips

With this poor sweetened water you call wine?

And though I spilled the nectar ere‘ twas quaffed,

And broke the bowl in wanton folly, yet

I would die of my thirst ere I would wet

My burning lips with any meaner draught.

So leave me, Romney. One who has seen a play

Enacted by a star cannot endure

To see it rendered by an amateur.

You know not what Love is — now go away!