The Ivy Crown (excerpt) by William Carlos Williams

The whole process is a lie, 
                  unless, 
                          crowned by excess, 
      it break forcefully, 
                  one way or another, 
                              from its confinement-- 
      or find a deeper well...
                 I love you 
                              or I do not live 
      at all.
 At our age the imagination 
                  across the sorry facts 
                              lifts us 
      to make roses 
                  stand before thorns. 
                              Sure 
      love is cruel 
                  and selfish 
                              and totally obtuse-- 
      At least, blinded by the light, 
                  young love is. 
                              But we are older, 
      I to love 
                  and you to be loved, 
                              we have, 
      no matter how, 
                  by our wills survived 
                              to keep 
      the jeweled prize 
                  always 
                              at our fingertips. 
      We will it so 
                  and so it is 
                              past all accident.