I Have Not Lived

Though half my years besiege the aged sun,

     I have not lived. My robust preparation

     Lags tardily behind fit consummation,

Droops sweatily in courses just begun.

Oh, I have loved and lusted with the best,

     Plucked momentary music from the senses;

     I’ve kissed a lip or two with fair pretenses

And wept for softness of a woman’s breast.

My mind rebounds to nether joys and pain,

     Toying with filth and pharisaic leaven;

     I know the lift up sundry peaks to heaven,

And every rockless path to hell again.

I wait the hour when gods have more to give

Than husks and bare insatiate will to live.