Classic Poem

By chance allotted as the mate
Of one you neither love nor know,
Who brings you neither joy nor woe,
What mockery is this of fate!

We play like children at a game,
We mime the deepest game of life,
We prattle words like love and wife
Whose fire should set the soul aflame

No purpose hides beneath our vows,
No heartbeat storms athwart our mirth;
We hold our words as little worth
As bird-notes tinkling through the boughs.

We shoot an arrow in the dark,
Nor know if destiny will guide
The careless missile all aside,
Or drive it through a throbbing mark.

And yet the fragile jest may live,
A prophecy of something sure,
Of something bitter to endure,
Or sweet as Paradise can give