by Philip Larkin
Is it for now or for always,
The world hangs on a stalk?
Is it a trick or a trysting place,
The woods we have found to walk?
Is it a mirage or a miracle,
Your lips that lift at mine:
And the suns like a juggler’s juggling-balls,
Are they a sham or a sign?
Shine out, my sudden angel,
Break fear with breast and brow,
I take you now and for always,
For always is always now. |
