Down in the lost and April days
What lies we told, what lies we told!
Nakedness seemed the one disgrace,
And there’d be time enough to praise
The truth when we were old.
The irresponsible poets sung
What came into their head:
Time to pick and choose among
The bold profusions of our tongue
When we were dead, when we were dead.
Oh wild the words we uttered then
In woman’s ear, in woman’s ear,
Believing all we promised when
Each kiss created earth again
And every far was near.
Little we guessed, who spoke the word
Of hope and freedom high
Spontaneously as wind or bird
To crowds like cornfields still or stirred,
It was a lie, a heart-felt lie.
Now the years advance into
A calmer stream, a colder stream,
We doubt the flame that once we knew,
Heroic words sound all untrue
As love-lies in a dream.
Yet fools are the old who won’t be taught
Modesty by their youth:
That pandemonium of the heart,
That sensual arrogance did impart
A kind of truth, a kindling truth.
Where are the sparks at random sown,
The spendthrift fire, the holy fire?
Who cares a damn for truth that’s grown
Exhausted haggling for its own
And speaks without desire?
1943