Apology for Cold and Shadows

The process of inspection lingers on,
An excavation of the truer jokes
And falser sermons. Love is not a hoax,
But nonetheless is full with vermin spawn,
And should be ranged with dusk instead of dawn.
It puts on gaudy, many-coloured cloaks
To dazzle, as when sentiment invokes
The light to brighten fear, when love is gone.

Do not fear me. I never seem so cold
As when the future freezes in my heart,
And castigates my tongue for being bold.
I must, and do, apologize, in part
For being young, pretending to be old,
And, too, perhaps, deceiving with this art.

Our Hearts, part 7