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.