They both wrote poetry   In fact, that was how they met   He was a Yorkshire man in Cambridge   She was from Massachusetts      They spoke and they fell in love   They kissed and picked daffodils   She came across the ocean   Just to bid her heart goodbye      The hawk next to his goddess   They were glorious to see   Back when Ted loved Sylvia      Close friends disapproved   Said they ought to wait   They did not care with all that said   And married nonetheless      They traveled and they taught   A life of academia   Typewriters and cocktails   Angry verses and sad pleas      Dutiful wife and mother   The poet behind her man   Back when Ted loved Sylvia      The tempests that were howling   And tearing them apart   Were forces that had been in place   To wreck them from the start      So she stayed home with the kids   Collecting poems in a jar   He had his lectures and soon a mistress   And left her all alone      Why did she end it all?   Was he just to blame?   There's only two that know for sure   And neither one remain      I don't need an answer   I prefer to read between the lines   Back when Ted loved Sylvia   Back when Ted loved Sylvia