"'You do not mean That was the first and last with him?' She said, 'That is the truth.' 'You lie,' I answered her. 'You lie and all your course has been a lie: Your words that asked me to be true to you, That I could break your heart. The breasts you showed Flowering because of me, as you declared; Our intimacy of bodies in the dance Now first permitted you because of love; Your plaints for truth and for fidelity, Your fears, a practiced veteran in the game, All simulated. And your prayer to God For me, our love, your protests for the war, For service, sacrifice, your mother hunger, Are all elaborate lies, hypocrisies, Studied in coolest cruelty, and mockery Of every lovely thing, if there can be A holy thing in life, as there cannot, As you have proven it. The diary's gone-- And let it go--you kept it from my eyes Which shows that there was more. What are you then, A whore, that's all, a masquerading whore, Not worthy of the hand that plies her trade In openness, without deceit. For if This was the first and only time with him Here is dissimulation month by month By word of mouth, in letters by the score; And here your willingness to take my soul And feed upon it. Knowing that my soul Through what I thought was love was caught and whirled To faith in the war, and faith in you as one Who symbolized the war as good, as means Of goodness for the world--and this deceit, Insane, remorseless, conscienceless, is worse Than what you did with him. I could forgive Disloyalty like that, but this deceit Is unforgivable. I go,' I said. I turned to leave. She rose up from the bed, 'Forgive! Forgive!' she pleaded, 'I was mad, Be fair! Be fair! You took me, turned from me, Seemed not to want me, so I went to him. I cried the whole day long when first I gave Myself to you, for thinking you had found All that you wanted, left me, did not care To see me any more. I swear to you I have been faithful to you since that day When we heard Chopin played, and I could see You loved me, and I loved you. O be fair!'"...