And cannot pleasures, while they last
Be actual unless, when past
They leave us shuddering and aghast
With anguish smarting?
And cannot friends be firm and fast
And yet bear parting?
And must I then, at Friendship's call
Calmly resign the little all
(Trifling, I grant, it is and small)
I have of gladness
And lend my being to the thrall
Of gloom and sadness?
And think you that I should be dumb
And full DOLORUM OMNIUM
Excepting when YOU choose to come
And share my dinner?
At other times be sour and glum
And daily thinner?
Must he then only live to weep
Who'd prove his friendship true and deep
By day a lonely shadow creep
At night-time languish
Oft raising in his broken sleep
The moan of anguish?
The lover, if for certain days
His fair one be denied his gaze
Sinks not in grief and wild amaze
But, wiser wooer
He spends the time in writing lays
And posts them to her
And if the verse flow free and fast
Till even the poet is aghast
A touching Valentine at last
The post shall carry
When thirteen days are gone and past
Of February
Farewell, dear friend, and when we meet
In desert waste or crowded street
Perhaps before this week shall fleet
Perhaps to-morrow
I trust to find YOUR heart the seat
Of wasting sorrow