At noon we met by chance—as noontide nears
Such the weeks round our daily chance has been;
Yet shipwrecked brother, newly come to land,
Could not more fiercely seize me by the hand.
You ask me how I am, nor let it pass,
But keep on asking till I tell you how;
'Twere rude to bid you not to be an ass,
Churlish to turn a greeting to a row;
But, knowing that my general health is fair,
Why should you daily ask, why should you care?