Is it for now or for always, The world hangs on a stalk? Is it a trick or a trysting-place, The woods we have found to walk? Is it a mirage or miracle, Your lips that lift at mine: And the suns like a juggler's juggling-balls, Are they a sham or a sign? Shine out, my sudden angel, Break fear with breast and brow, I take you now and for always, For always is always now. Philip Larkin