April 8th: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage excerpt

Here’s one that isn’t a love poem at all. But it’s about love, and while it’s sort of gratuitously, melodramatically negative and cynical in the best Byron style, I think it captures something essential to the experience–that hatred and resentment you can only feel for someone you’ve been (or are) in a relationship with.

Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Canto IV, verse CXXV.
by George Gordon, Lord Byron

Few–none–find what they love or could have loved,
Though accident, blind contact, and the strong
Necessity of loving, have removed
Antipathies–but to recur, ere long,
Envenom’d with irrevocable wrong.

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