Allow me to muse and to sigh,
Nor talk of the change that ye find;
None once was more happy than I;
But, alas! I've left Gushing behind!
Now I know what it is to have strove[1]
With the tortures of verbal desire.
I must use measured terms, where I love,
And be moderate, when I admire.
No slang must my diction adorn,