Wail

Wail


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?