Night-watchmen think of dawn and things auroral.

Clerks wistful for Bermudas think of coral.

The poet in New York still thinks of laurel.

(But lovers think of death and touch each other

As if to prove that love is still alive.)

The Martian space-crew, in an Earthward dive,

Think of their sweet unearthly earth Up There,

Where darling monsters romp in airless air.

(Two lovers think of death and touch each other,

Fearing that day when only one’s alive.)

We think of cash, but cash does not arrive.

We think of fun, but fate will not connive.

We never mention death. Do we survive?

(The lovers think of death and touch each other

To live their love while love is yet alive.)

Prize-winners are so avid when they strive;

They race so far; they pile their toys so high.

Only a cad would trip them. Yet they die.

(The lovers think of death and touch each other;

Of all who live, these are the most alive.)

When all the lemming-realists contrive

To swim—where to?—in life’s enticing tide,

Only a fool would stop and wait outside.

(The lovers stop and wait and touch each other.

Who twinly think of death are twice alive.)

Plump creatures smack their lips and think they thrive;

The hibernating bear, but half alive,

Dreams of free honey in a stingless hive.

He thinks of life at every lifeless breath

(The lovers think of death.)