acts

by Matthew Stokdyk

If all the world’s a stage,
then I should wish to play
and act the early acts
when all was light and gay.

Of all my seven roles,
I think that three are spent;
for when I saw her face,
my heart no more was rent.

My sighs—a furnace hot
(as Will was wont to say)—
have cooled, and now a beard
has grown upon my face—

and now my oaths are firm
(or more so than before)
and though I try to run
I care for honor more.

I stare the cannon down
and pray to make it fast—
for without love, I fear
that I will never last.