A Possibility by Ambrose Bierce — Past Poetry archive

If the wicked gods were willing (Pray it never may be true!) That a universal chilling Should ensue Of the sentiment of loving⁠— If they made a great undoing Of the plan of turtle-doving, Then farewell all poet-lore, Evermore. If there were no more of billing There would be no more of cooing And we all should be but owls⁠— Lonely fowls Blinking wonderfully wise, With our great round eyes⁠— Sitting singly in the gloaming and no longer two and two, As unwilling to be wedded as unpracticed how to woo; With regard to being mated, Asking still with aggravated Ungrammatical acerbity: “To who? To who?”