By the time you swear you’re his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is,
Infinite, undying—
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
Constant use will not wear ragged the fabric of friendship.
This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.
You can lead a horticulture, but you can’t make her think.
