I cannot help but be what I would not: A river raging reckless through our love; But anger is the closest thing I've got To what far more aggrieved must in me move. I know quite well that I'm not being fair: You could not help but be untimely gone. But unlike you, I could not be but there To feel our child go dead within my womb. How you are like the wind, and I the earth That bears the seed you scatter on your way! Mine alone the brutal joys of birth; Yours alone the choice to go or stay. Despite our love, despite your sympathy, I know that I in this alone must be.