Mother Comfort

Dear, shall we talk or will that cloud the sky?

Will you be Mother Comfort or shall I?

If I should love him where would our lives be?

And if you turn him out at last, then friendship pity me!

My longing, like my heart, beats to and fro.

Oh that a single life could be both Yes and No.

Ashamed to grant and frightened to refuse –

Pity has chosen: Power has still to choose.

But darling, when that stretched out will is tired

Surely your timid prettiness longs to be overpowered?

Sure gossips have this sweet facility

To tell transparent lies and, without pain, to cry.

Will you be Mother Comfort or shall I?