They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don't have any kids yourself.

Love, we must part now: do not let it be Calamitious and bitter. In the past There has been too much moonlight and self-pity; Let us have done with it, for now at last Never has sun more boldly paced the sky, Never were hearts more eager to be free, To kick down worlds, lash forests; you and I No longer hold them; we are husks, that see The grain going forward to a different use.

There is regret. Always, there is regret But it is better that our lives unloose As two tall ships, wind-mastered, wet with light Break from an estuary with their courses set And waving part, and waving drop from sight.

Morning has spread again Through every street, And we are strange again; For should we meet How can I tell you that Last night you came Unbidden, in a dream? And how forget That we had worn down love good-humouredly, Talking in fits and starts As friends, as they will be Who have let passion die within their hearts. Now, watching the red east expand, I wonder love can have already set In dreams, when we've not met More times than I can number on one hand