Paradox
by Georgia Douglas Johnson (1880-1966)
I know you love me better, cold—Strange as the pyramids of old,Responselessly;But I am frail, am spent and weakWith surging torrents that bespeakA living fire!So, like a veil, my poor disguiseIs draped to save me from your eyes’Deep challenges.Fain would I fling this robe asideAnd from you, in your bosom hideEternally!Alas!You love me better cold,Like frozen pyramids of old,Unyieldingly!
