He caught distressing colds at night,
By watching ’neath her casement:
He did what I have done, I know,
And you, I do not doubt it,—
Instead of bottling up his woe,
He bored his friends about it!
In brooding on the ways of Fate
Long hours he daily wasted,
His food remained upon his plate,
’Twas scarcely touched or tasted: