A Woman Could Do Much

A woman could do much
To heal me where I ache.
A woman friend is good
To ease my heart's despair,
But a lover, O! a lover
Would close this bitter wound
And make me whole, a man
Who is a man at last.

The tale is very old:
The shy and studious lad,
All talent and intellect
And trapped within himself
Goes out into the world
With false hopes and ideals
And doesn't know the game.
He struggles for a place
Among the world of men
Who've played it hard and well,
Have borne their scars and won,
And those who've had the world
Fed to them on a plate:
Born into fame or wealth
Or ladies blessed by beauty.

Oh ladies, you are gentle
As friends but hard in love!
We men are not all scoundrels;
Have mercy on our hearts!
We need and want you dearly.
To love you is the purpose
That Nature has thrust on us
Into our deepest selves.
It's true, we're often fickle,
By empty beauty blinded.
It's true, our bodies call us
To taste from other springs.
But love us true and deeply
And bind us with affection,
And we will not desert you
Though a thousand beauties call.

George Chadderdon © 1997