And Must I Then by Edna St. Vincent Millay

And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with you

All through my life? -sharing my fire, my bed, / Sharing-oh, worst of all things! -the same head? -

And, when I feed myself, feeding you, too? So be it, then, if what seems true, is true:

Let us to dinner, comrade, and be fed; - I cannot die till you yourself are dead, / And, with you living, I can live life through. Yet have you done me harm, ungracious guest, / Spying upon my ardent offices

With frosty look; robbing my nights of rest; And making harder things I did with ease. You will die with me : but I shall, at best, / Forgive you with restraint, for deeds like these.