Will, o will anyone roam, o roam to my, o my o poem (A lovey dovey thing)?

A Gentleman Never

What is in front of me in the way

Of support and love, she had cried

As I had gathered her up in

My arms before her family,

And I on my way to the charms

Of a waiting, more than willing,

Wench, and she pouring forth that which

Could but wrench, like a sabre strung

Under a whole piano bench,

Tug at heart strings already set

Out to both her, in amour, yet

Also to another in fresh, wet,

We shall not forget amorous

Loving, and that amour balked as

She by her family which did

Not support her in that way, our

Way, nor, as she now wept to say,

In many another: and I,

Wanting to fly to another

Awaiting already, felt her

In a need such that should my heart

Bleed at all as it pumped air to

My lungs and brain, should I not stop,

Help and give all, all self-respect

Should in future fall, crumble as

Even now did she, seeing as

Her family, indifferent,

Revealed truth in place of support,

Mutual non-aggression pact,

In place of love, alliance and

She, knowing the truth of her, learned

In reality of growing

Among such and within her sought

Now, for reasons I knew not, for

All her pourings forth, to delay

Me on my way, to tell me, tell

Someone, tell herself, tell them, how

It really is in an ice land

Of alliance and betrayal

Of alliance as I gathered

Her up into my arms, her spine

Melted as a glucose snake on

The bitumen on a sunny

Day, her muscles like jelly, her

Soul one of love in hell he knew

And knew not, her voice one which could

Never be forgot but only

Ignored, abjured, used to inure

One’s self to voices like that, pure

In strangulation, in drownings’

Peak experience when dawnings

Of an end to all, of all, rise

And in hurried surprise the mind

Races the brain to say, she said

What is in front of me by way

Of love and support, and I caught

Her sister’s eye, her sister’s dress

Of blue caught my eye, and the caress,

Almost like the eye of a carcass,

As her sister’s eye crossed mine eye

As I gathered her up, to follow

Her instruct as to where she would

Go now, now she and they and I did

Know of afore said torrential flows,

I not knowing, I suppose, truths

Of many prospects and problems she

Did pose, only the tips of icebergs, I

Suppose, nor if, in the heat of the moments

In which I gathered her into my

Arms, and despaired to neglect

Another’s charm and wilfull wenchiness,

And she felt her soul’s water melting for

Perhaps the first time ever, what her

Will would bring in the cool of evening

Would not simply chill her to the bones,

Still all free tropical glacier flowings

To an arctic circle’s stowing once again

Of water, useless to the hoeing of honest,

Earthy gardeners, and I useless

Once again in the face of a family

Which could but see alliance and potential

Aggression between she and me to be

To be the only prospect for a felt love

Abjured in me, inured for me, pure

And purely strangled by me, entangled

In its welling and her truth and the truths

I could not ignore in her raisings

From the floor and my risings to once

More her already amourous, my desire

Clamourous, my heart doubly amourous,

Yet in two too many ways. And that stays

Tearing within me, even as she once was

Tearing without me, even as she once was

Daring without me, even as I once was

Daring within me, even as I once was

Caring within me, even as they once were

Unsharing without her, even as they once were

Uncaring within her spheres of concern

Which it seems, in the end, we were all

Too late to learn. But then, after the end,

A gentleman never tells, they say, and

Of that day’s end the poet now dares

To tear his cares to be unsharing.