Good Man, Bad Woman

You say that spite avails her nothing, that
You rest intact in conscience and intact
In self, a man of longer time than days,
Of larger company than one. Therefore,
Pure scientist, you look with nice aplomb
At this indifferent experience,
Deploring sentiment. When May came last,
And equally as scientist you walked
Among the orchards in the apple-blocks
And saw the blossoms, snow-bred pink and white,
Making your heart of brass to intercept
The childish onslaughts of such innocence,
Why was it that you cast the brass away
And bared yourself, and bared yourself in vain?
She can corrode your world, if never you.