Your fright calls Death and dares not understand!
Such a nice chat! Oh, taking leave is hard!
But—here’s my body for a calling-card!
POSITIVELY THE LAST PERFORMANCE!
So here’s an end—and all the truth of you
Is said that can be said—and all the lies.
Clear for the fools who never saw your eyes,
Since you insist we are not one, but two.
Well, fifty years remain to jingle through
In which we will not meet, as you surmise;