You call yourself a man,
For all you used to swear,
An' leave me, as you can,
My certain shame to bear?
Pity me not because the light of day
At close of day no longer walks the sky;
Pity me not for beauties passed away
From field and thicket as the the year goes by;
Ever musing I delight to tread
The Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove
Your thighs off my hips.
As far as I'm concerned
They are all surgeons. All of them.
Your love and pity doth th' impression fill
Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'ergreen my bad, my good allow?
God has pity on kindergarten children,
He pities school children -- less.
But adults he pities not at all.
As far from pity, as complaint—
As cool to speech—as stone—
They never saw my lover's face,
They only know our love was brief,
Wearing awhile a windy grace
And passing like an autumn leaf.