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Wail
LOVE has gone a-rocketing.
That is not the worst;
I could do without the thing,
And not be the first.
That is not the worst;
I could do without the thing,
And not be the first.
Joy has gone the way it came.
That is nothing new;
I could get along the same,—
Many people do.
That is nothing new;
I could get along the same,—
Many people do.
Dig for me the narrow bed,
Now I am bereft.
All my pretty hates are dead,
And what have I left?
Now I am bereft.
All my pretty hates are dead,
And what have I left?
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