thomas hardy

HI

Close your eyes, my love,
let me make you blind;
Only a mean arithmetic on the face of things,
A cunning algebra in the faces of men,
And God like geometry
Completing his circles, and working cleverly.


Now stop carping at me.—
But God, how I hate you!
Do you fear I shall swindle you?
Do you think if you take me as I am, that will abate you
Somehow?--so sad, so intrinsic, so spiritual, yet so cautious, you
Must have me all in your will and your consciousness--
I hate you.