The Garrett

Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are. Come, my friend, and remember t hat the rich have butlers and no friends, And we have friends and no butlers. Come, let us pity the married and the unmarried. Dawn enters with little feet like a gilded Pavlova And I am near my desire. Nor has life in it aught better Than this hour of clear coolness t he hour of waking together.