In sufficient time

If I had but world enough, and time
to cling to your fingers, cling to your knife,
moonshine wrapped in brown paper
would be enough.

If I had to love not wisely, but too well
to die, to sleep, to sleep, perchance to dream,
jealousy, the green-eyed monster,
would be enough.

If I had to tear through the iron gates of life
and rage, rage against the dying of the light,
the disconnected number I still call
would be enough.

But I don’t have to
for you
would be


In making this pastiche, I took lines from some of my favourite poets and poems tried to join them together. These are the poems.