Every time I warmly want,
Cold virtue comes to haunt.
But virtue must have wants, too.
Yes. Virtue wants what’s best for you.
Virtue owns the morning, the placid afternoon.
Last night I saw virtue reflected in the moon.
The trouble is, I’m emotional—
Virtue is distant and cold.
Virtue doesn’t rescue us from death
Or getting old.
Stoic virtue, you must be blamed, too.
I feel death’s cold. Don’t you?