As dementia is to fair memories,
as a killing frost to May’s budding rose,
so your once young love now in falling leaves,
gathers up his courage and from you goes.
But this late spring precedes no second fall;
no winter descends from your discontent.
Think not that this mistress misses her call.
Think not her wily schemes have been misspent.
Some say once wanton, once won, once waylaid,
fidelity proves an awkward ascent,
but my faith is sure; I am unafraid.
No body as hot as money is spent
would fail to attract a little more heat
than the word ‘farewell’ you can spell D-E-F-E-A-T.