... So, praise the gods, Catullus is away!
 And let me tend you this advice, my dear:
Take any lover that you will, or may,
 Except a poet. All of them are queer.

It's just the same- a quarrel or a kiss
 Is but a tune to play upon his pipe.
He's always hymning that or wailing this;
 Myself, I much prefer the business type.

That thing he wrote, the time the sparrow died-
 (Oh, most unpleasant- gloomy, tedious words!)
I called it sweet, and made believe I cried;
 The stupid fool! I've always hated birds....