Louise Bogan (1897-1970)

 “She is a compulsive poet first, a stylist second”

Richard Eberhart, New York Times   

Juan’s Song

When beauty breaks and falls asunder
I feel no grief for it, but wonder.
When love, like a frail shell, lies broken,
I keep no chip of it for token.
I never had a man for friend
Who did not know that love must end.
I never had a girl for lover
Who could discern when love was over.
What the wise doubt, the fool believes–
Who is it, then, that love deceives?

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