Sylvia Plath

Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss

Never try to trick me with a kiss Pretending that the birds are here to stay; The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. A stone can masquerade where no heart is And virgins rise where lustful Venus lay: Never try to trick me with a kiss. Our noble doctor claims the pain is his, While stricken patients let him have his say; The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. Each virile bachelor dreads paralysis, The old maid in the gable cries all day: Never try to trick me with a kiss. The suave eternal serpents promise bliss To mortal children longing to be gay; The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. Sooner or later something goes amiss; The singing birds pack up and fly away; So never try to trick me with a kiss: The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

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