Classic Poem

1. Storm At Midnight

Somehow I've made a thorough mess of things:
An old friend shows me I've offended him,
And when I confess the guilt of which he sings,
Attempts to rub my nose in my own sin.
How can so real a friend be furious?
Must my mistake engage him in another?
The way he writes and writes is curious:
I used to feel the man my only brother.

The thoughtless deed I've done I can't undo,
And since he scorns my warm apologies,
Is there nothing further between us two
Except to stand off and draw like enemies?
My hand begins to caress a cold proud sword —
But longs for his hand to come and say one word.

2. The Morning After

The twins, self-love and love, go hand in hand
Throughout my little land of egoism.
The man or thing I yearn to understand
Is blurred by my acute astigmatism.
Even my proffered affection has a tang
Of selfishness: I love the love I send,
And burn for a swift and lasting boomerang
To end my loneliness and hold my friend.
Humor can well relieve these human sins
So long as they are my own comedies,
But when a friend of mine has similar twins
And hands them on to me, they're tragedies.
I hate to believe my heart can only give
The love it needs — but that is how I live.

3. An Open Door

To those who wish to call I'm always home
Provided they forget Society.
I much prefer the man to come alone:
Two hands can say enough for him and me.
In youth my heart was lonely, large and shy,
Then yearned too much and grew gregarious.
The fault is mine if now I'm rather sly
When friends of old have grown precarious.
Whoever he is he needn't come prepared
To greet a man with any noble graces.
Nor must he mind if I look rather scared
The moment he begins to wear two faces.
The door is standing open just the same;
He can go without a word the way he came.