Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.
YOU ARE READING
FEELINGS UNFILTERED
PoetryA compilation of the world's best poetry, all written in black and white, served best chilled. Sad love poems to make you realize the one thing you've been missing, and when you thought you just had about everything else, the only way you're going n...
