Wild Oats
by Philip Larkin
About twenty years ago
Two girls came in where I
worked—
A bosomy English rose
And her friend in specs I
could talk to.
Faces in those days
sparked
The whole shooting-match
off, and I doubt
If ever one had like
hers:
But it was the friend I
took out,
And in seven years after
that
Wrote over four hundred
letters,
Gave a ten-guinea ring
I got back in the end,
and met
At numerous cathedral
cities
Unknown to the clergy. I
believe
I met beautiful twice.
She was trying
Both times (so I thought)
not to laugh.
Parting, after about five
Rehearsals, was an
agreement
That I was too selfish,
withdrawn,
And easily bored to love.
Well, useful to get that
learnt.
In my wallet are still
two snaps
Of bosomy rose with fur
gloves on.
Unlucky charms, perhaps.