Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/87

 JEALOUSY

I see you, who were so wise and cool,

Gazing with silly sickness on that fool

You've given your love to, your adoring hands

Touch his so intimately that each understands,

I know, most hidden things; and when I know

Your holiest dreams yield to the stupid bow

Of his red lips, and that the empty grace

Of those strong legs and arms, that rosy face,

Has beaten your heart to such a flame of love,

That you have given him every touch and move,

Wrinkle and secret of you, all your life,

—Oh! then I know I'm waiting, lover-wife,

For the great time when love is at a close,

And all its fruit's to watch the thickening nose

And sweaty neck and dulling face and eye,

That are yours, and you, most surely, till you die!

Day after day you'll sit with him and note

The greasier tie, the dingy wrinkling coat;

As prettiness turns to pomp, and strength to fat,

And love, love, love to habit!