72 TO THE SAME AIR AS THE PRECEDING

And so farewell (as my rondeau wails In obsolete accents and absolute truth), For all is over, and nothing avails To capture the rapture of last year’s youth. All is quite over. Touch hands. Good-bye. For you the future is nowise dim; For me there are other women, and I Must forget you now, since that is your whim. And we will laugh in the after-times At two young people we knew, no doubt, Who scribbled each other such woeful rhymes And played a comical tragedy out. We shall not die of it. We shall be Contented and healed of the passing smart; And yet if you had not tired of me, Life while life lasted were yours, sweetheart.