I would wear my best green silk and my Empire sacque And walk in the garden at home and feel the wind Blow through my rags of honor forever and ever. And after that, when I married some other beau, I would make a good wife and raise my children on sweet Milk, not on poison, though it might have been so. And my husband would never know When he turned to me, when I kissed him, when we were kind, When I cleaned his coat, when we talked about dresses and weather, He had married something that belonged to the wind And felt the blind And always stream of that wind on her too-light bones, Neither fast nor slow, but never checked or resigned, Blowing through rags of honor forever and ever.)

They are calling for partners again. Shall we dance again? (Why do we hate each other so well, when we Are tied together by something that will not free us? If I see you across a room, I will go to you, If you see me across a room, you will come to me, And yet we hate each other.)