"Wine that turned to Vinegar"

To have loved, to have kissed
And- oh, God!- to have missed
The completion of Love!
To have turned to one
As the only sun
In one's sky above
And to find that his beams
Had merely in dreams
Their radiant light.
What so deep as the woe
Of those who did know
The joy of the height.
A more powerful thing
Than the broken wing
Of a bird that soared,
Is one driven by fate
To return with hate
Where she once adored.



Marie Stopes... of course! 1909