Lady, having been engaged since May-day
(Pity that the Spring should ever stop!)
Now the year's no longer in its heyday,
Don't you think we'd better let it drop?
In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly
Turns to love, as doubtless you're aware;
In the Spring we wax exceeding sprightly,
Due, no doubt, to something in the air.
Then, as was both natural and proper,
We two met and, scorning all delay,
Vowed to wed, and neither cared a copper
For the pregnant fact that it was May.
Summer came and, warming with the weather,
Rarely was an ardour such as mine;
You'll recall that, take it altogether,
For an English summer it was fine.
Summer turned to Autumn, and September
Opened to the world her golden feast;
Quite a record month, as you'll remember,
And my love, if anything, increased.
Honestly, I thought it was a sure case;
Only, now the early Winter's come,
Lady, as in others', so in your case,
I confess to getting rather numb.
Do not deem me fickle, dear, and faithless;
Though the readjustment seems to be
Sudden--not to call it startling--natheless
You can hardly put it down to me.
Love appears, for some unfathomed reason,
Like a flow'r that ripens with the sun;
And, like everything that has its season,
Withers when its little course is run.
That's what I conceive to be the matter;
And I write, believe me, with regret;
For I own, with no desire to flatter,
That you're quite the nicest girl I've met.
Still, farewell, or (put it less severely)
_Au revoir_; I hope you'll keep the ring;
Snows are brief, and I, who loved you dearly
Once, again may do so--in the Spring.
CAPT. KENDALL.
_Almanack_, 1914.