He who once stood tall before the mast,
and fought under four flags, and then came home at last
to grub in a greasy till for a common penny,
and learn to accommodate will to the wonts of the many;

and she who erstwhile struck a resplendent stance
in silver chiffon amidst the debutantes,
then married to a mucker in a mine and bred ugly babies
in a rage concupiscent as a case of rabies—

these two will never meet the one the other,
though she be Miranda’s sister, he Hamlet’s brother;
except in the store, where she pays him for detergent.
Mutually detoured by gallantry to courses divergen

they circle in ignorance an absent point of meeting:
No beauty’s kiss for the hero come home for greeting,
no soldier’s arm to embrace her with splendid ado,
only traffic in greasy pennies, now, between these two,

who, when they were early and wonderful, would have loved true.