I should have seen the sign: “Fresh paint,”

But useless to advise

The careless soul, and memory’s stained

With cheeks, calves, hands, lips, eyes.

More than all failure, all success,

I loved you, for your skill

In whitening the yellowed world

As white cosmetics will.

Listen, my dark, my friend: by God,

All will grow white somehow,

Whiter than madness or lamp shades

Or bandage on a brow.