I was reading some poetry tonight and this one strikes me. It kind of reminds me of dating. And makes me a little upset that I ever did such a thing as date.
Dear, though the night is gone
It’s dream still haunts us today,
That brought us to a room
Cavernous, lofty as
A railway terminus,
And crowded in the gloom
Were beds, and we in one
In a far corner lay.
Our whisper woke no clocks,
We kissed and I was glad
At everything you did,
Indifferent to those
Who sat with hostile eyes
In pairs on every bed,
Arms around each other’s neck,
Inert and vaguely sad.
O but what worm of guilt
Or what malignant doubt
Am I the victim of,
That you then, unabashed,
Did what I never wished,
Confessed another love;
And I, submissive, felt
Unwanted and went out?
-W.H. Auden
