Tell me of your mind tomorrow:
now you sleep, our quarrel over,
oh my life, my woman-lover,
sleep may recompense mind-sorrow;
but what coin can I borrow
to make recompense for causing
pain to you – my word-shots pausing
only when they’d caused you sorrow
How can I be whole and human
after dog-in-the-manger snarling
turned direct on you – my darling,
lover, sweet, sharp-breasted woman,
now you sleep and I make common
with your special self I treasured –
how can my own loss be measured
that I may again be human
I am nothing, I am no man
till this coin I may borrow
(by your lending), coin least common,
and make recompense for sorrow.
Let your love forget my snarling –
all this hurt and all this sorrow,
let it be forgotten darling.
Tell me of your mind tomorrow.