Four be the things I'd been better without: Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt. Three be the things I shall never attain: Envy, content, and sufficient champagne. Three be the things I shall have till I die: Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye. _Now at Liberty_ Little white love, your way you've taken; Now I am left alone, alone. Little white love, my heart's forsaken. (Whom shall I get by telephone?) Well do I know there's no returning; Once you go out, it's done, it's done. All of my days are gray with yearning. (Nevertheless, a girl needs fun.) Little white love, perplexed and weary, Sadly your banner fluttered down. Sullen the days, and dreary, dreary. (Which of the boys is still in town?) Radiant and sure, you came a-flying; Puzzled, you left on lagging feet. Slow in my breast, my heart is dying. (Nevertheless, a girl must eat.) Little white love, I hailed you gladly; Now I must wave you out of sight. Ah, but you used me badly, badly. (Who'd like to take me out to-night?) All of the blundering words I've spoken, Little white love, forgive, forgive. Once you went out, my heart fell, broken. (Nevertheless, a girl must live.) _Comment_ Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never go wrong; And I am Marie of Roumania. _Plea_ Secrets, you said, would hold us two apart; You'd have me know of you your least transgression And so the intimate places of your heart, Kneeling, you bared to me, as in confession. Softly you told of loves that went before,-- Of clinging arms, of kisses gladly given; Luxuriously clean of heart once more, You rose up, then, and stood before me, shriven. When this, my day of happiness, is through, And love, that bloomed so fair, turns brown and brittle, There is a thing that I shall ask of you-- I, who have given so much, and asked so little. Some day, when there's another in my stead; Again you'll feel the need of absolution, And you will go to her, and bow your head, And offer her your past, as contribution. When with your list of loves you overcome her, For Heaven's sake, keep this one secret from her! _Pattern_ Leave me to my lonely pillow. Go, and take your silly posies; Who has vowed to wear the willow Looks a fool, tricked out in roses. Who are you, my lad, to ease me? Leave your pretty words unspoken. Tinkling echoes little please me, Now my heart is freshly broken. Over young are you to guide me, And your blood is slow and sleeping. If you must, then sit beside me.... Tell me, why have I been weeping? _De Profundis_