Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Betrothal

Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad,
  And love me if you like.
  I shall not hear the door shut
  Nor the knocker strike.
  Oh, bring me gifts or beg me gifts,
  And wed me if you will.
  I’d make a man a good wife,
  Sensible and still.
  And why should I be cold, my lad,
 And why should you repine,
 Because I love a dark head
 That never will be mine?
 
 I might as well be easing you
 As lie alone in bed
 And waste the night in wanting
 A cruel dark head.
 
 You might as well be calling yours
 What never will be his,
 And one of us be happy.
 There’s few enough as is.
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