A Love That Was

Cape Cod Love / Photo by Annie

To Earthward

by Robert Frost

Love at the lips was touch 

As sweet as I could bear;

And once that seemed too much; 

I lived on air

That crossed me from sweet things,

The flow of- was it musk

From hidden grapevine springs

Down hill at dusk?

I had the swirl and ache

From sprays of honeysuckle

That when they're gathered shake

Dew on the knuckle.

I craved strong sweets, but those

Seemed strong when I was young;

The petal of the rose

It was that stung.

Now no joy but lacks salt 

That is not dashed with pain 

And weariness and fault; 

I crave the stain 

Of tears, the aftermark

Of almost too much love,

The sweet of bitter bark 

And burning clove.

When stiff and sore and scarred

I take away my hand

From leaning on it hard 

In grass and sand, 

The hurt is not enough:

I long for weight and strength 

To feel the earth as rough

To all my length.