Tho’ these ballades and rondeaux of mine
Had the verdict of “quite in the vein,”
They say now I am shunned by the Nine,
And my verses are ruthlessly slain.
Tho’ by courtesy we are called twain,
’Tis my wife that comprises the Co.,
And of course I’ve no right to complain,
For I’m single no longer, you know!
In a word, to conclude the refrain,
I have hung up my fiddle and bow,