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Happiness was but a fleeting chance

When that star appeared to grasp or gaze

A nova complete with just a glance

And the vision needed to map the maze

Stumbling out unsure of his feet

Seeking a horizon where the twain may meet

And though his years as yet are young

The venom of solitude is known well

Mod posters on his wall with songs unsung

Songs with a meaning, a story to tell

But at your back you always hear¹

Time’s winged chariot hurrying near

Like a bursting well boarded up

Like a lion chained to a tree

Upon these words he will forever sup

For like a lion she longs to be free

But he says he will not board nor chain her

Are you free to make that claim sir?

Maybe she knows of years gone by

Perhaps she has loved a love of fire

Yes, she is asleep, but very much alive

I saw an angel, from inside his mire

It seems that harmony escapes him now

But she requires love-love as a vow.

But people change and with age mellow

Had he not known her ere the time

Still waters run deep and rarely tallowed

So reach, and clasp her hand in thine

For the grave is a fine and private place²

But none I think do there embrace.

1&2 Andrew Marvell – “To His Coy Mistress”