SONNET

Insensitive passion, thou art a goad
to disreputable deeds -- pardon begged
for each disservice. The moral high road,
O treacherous incline -- the limply legged
sinner, strength soon spent in passionate whim
has not the constitution for't, that thou
hast seen to:  Lacking vigour, sapped of vim,
his feet slip beneath, he's broken in two.
The rock sees to that. Canst thou look upon
this sight, and again; and still be unmov'd?
Get thee away!  I cry to thee:  Begone!
Thy effects are unmistaken, well prov'd;
   Better for the general good thou leav'st
   Than break one more man, and a poor bride griev'st.

---jrw 1:56am
3-16-96