Robert Graves

Song of Contrariety

Far away is close at hand 
Close joined is far away, 
Love shall come at your command 
Yet will not stay.

At summons of your dream-despair, 
She might not disobey, 
But slid down close beside you there 
And complaisant lay.

Yet now her flesh and blood consent 
In the hours of day,
Joy and passion both are spent, 
Twining clean away.

Is the person empty air, 
Is the spectre clay, 
That love, lent substance by despair, 
Wanes and leaves you lonely there 
On the bridal day?