Poem by Elinor Wylie

Quarrel

Let us quarrel for these reasons: 
You detest the salt which seasons 
My speech . . . and all my lights go out 
In the cold poison of your doubt. 
I love Shelley . . . you love Keats 
Something parts and something meets. 
I love salads . . . you love chops; 
Something goes and something stops. 
Something hides its face and cries; 
Something shivers; something dies. 
I love blue ribbons brought from fairs; 
You love sitting splitting hairs. 
I love truth, and so do you . . . 
Tell me, is it truly true?

1. Upon Your Heart, Which Is.the Heart of All
2. In Our Content, before the Autumn Came
3. The Pekingese
4. One Person
5. Absent Thee from Felicity Awhile

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