If Love Becomes a Game
by ROBERT GRAVES
If love becomes a game the sweet young fool,
Now both player and prize,
Learns to resist a gentlemanly rule,
Against unsporting lies,
That draws her far-from-ladylike attack
When, as a last resort,
She’s kicked the table down, scattered the pack
And turned to other sport —
When, as a last resort,
She’s kicked the table down, scattered the pack
And turned to other sport —
To sport, alas, with some gay gambling boy
Who, judging it no sin
Her sweet, young, foolish license to enjoy,
Can never help but win.
Who, judging it no sin
Her sweet, young, foolish license to enjoy,
Can never help but win.