Classic Poem

Go away from me — do! I am tired of you! —
That I loved you last May isn't this season, too;
And, you know, every spring there's a new bird to sing
In the nest of the old, and a ghost on the wing!

Now, don't you assert that I'm simply a flirt —
And it's babyish for you to say that I hurt,
And my words are a dart, when they're only a part
Of your own fickle nature committed to heart.

It was all a mistake, and I don't want to make
The silly thing over for your silly sake —
Though I really once may have been such a dunce
As to fancy you loved me, some faraway months.

So, go away — do! I am tired clean through,
And you can't make me even feel sorry for you —
For, with us, every spring there's a new bird to sing
In the nest of the old, and a ghost on the wing.