Perversity
Item
Title
Perversity
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Description
We all love more the Passed and the To Be
Than actual time, and far things more than near.
Perverse we all are somehow; calling dear
Rather the rare than fair. But as for me,
How singular and sad that I should see
More loveliness in Grecian marbles clear
Than modern flesh, to beauty insincere;
Less glory in a man than any tree.
I fall in love with children, elfin fair;
Portraits; dark ladies in dark tales antique;
Or instantaneous faces passed in streets.
I know the dim old gods that never were,
Better than men. One friend I love unique,
But now, thou canst not dream I love thee, Keats!
Than actual time, and far things more than near.
Perverse we all are somehow; calling dear
Rather the rare than fair. But as for me,
How singular and sad that I should see
More loveliness in Grecian marbles clear
Than modern flesh, to beauty insincere;
Less glory in a man than any tree.
I fall in love with children, elfin fair;
Portraits; dark ladies in dark tales antique;
Or instantaneous faces passed in streets.
I know the dim old gods that never were,
Better than men. One friend I love unique,
But now, thou canst not dream I love thee, Keats!
Identifier
3346.txt
Creator
Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918)
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Date
1983
Date Created
1983-01-01
Temporal Coverage
1983-12-31
Type
Poem
Publisher
The First World War Poetry Digital Archive
