The season was waning fast Our nights were growing cold at last I took her to bed with silk and song, ' Lay still, my love, I won’t be long.. I must prepare my body for passion.'' O, your body you give, but all else you ration.'' It is because of these dreams of a sylvan scene.. A bleeding nymph to leave me serene.. I have dreams of a trembling wench.'' You have dreams, ' she said, 'that cannot be quenched.'' Our passion, ' said I, 'should never be feared.. As our longing for love can never be cured.. Our want is our way and our way is our will.. We have the love, my love, that no one can kill.'' If night is your love, then in dreams you’ll fulfill.. This love, our love, that no one can kill.' Yet want is my way, and my way is my will, Thus I killed my love with a sleeping pill. Roman Payne
About This Quote

In this poem, the speaker is trying to describe a man who is unable to achieve happiness as he tries to find a way to satisfy his deep desire for a woman. The speaker is being ironic because he knows that he could have his way with the woman if he just tried harder. But instead, he takes a drug so that she will not wake up before he has finished enjoying her.

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