Jealousy

And after that,

When all that's fine in man is at an end,

And you, that loved young life and clean, must tend

A foul sick fumbling dribbling body and old,

When his rare lips hang flabby and can't hold

Slobber, and you're enduring that worst thing,

Senility's queasy furtive love-making,

And searching those dear eyes for human meaning,

Propping the bald and helpless head, and cleaning

A scrap that life's flung by, and love's forgotten, —

Then you'll be tired; and passion dead and rotten;

And he'll be dirty, dirty!

O lithe and free

And lightfoot, that the poor heart cries to see,

That's how I'll see your man and you! —

But you

— Oh, when THAT time comes, you'll be dirty too!