Oh, you are more desirable to me
Alan Seeger
1888 to 1916
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Oh, you are more desirable to me
Than all staked in an impulsive hour,
Making my youth the of chance, to be
Blighted or torn in its perfect flower;
For I think less of what that may bring
Than how, before returning into fire,
To my dearest memory of the thing
That is but my ultimate desire.
And in old times I should prayed to her
Whose haunt the groves of windy were,
To prosper me and crown with good success
will to make of you the rose-twined bowl
From inebriating brim my soul
Shall drink its last of happiness.