Love has gone a-rocketing. 
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. 

Dig for me the narrow bed, 
Now I am bereft. 
All my pretty hates are dead, 
And what have I left?