The Sport of a God

Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow —

At the lover's vow that must break some day —

Still we smiled as we loved in a distant May

When the blooms were heavy upon the bough.

O, the mocking difference of then and now!

It is n't a thought that will make one gay,

Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow —

At the lover's vow that must break some day.

Yet, perhaps, the god knows the best way how

To carry a mask when the feet are clay;

So I too shall laugh at the merry play,

For down in his heart there's a knife, I trow,

Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow.