He found his feelings weren't requited, quite.
The lady dark, he'd never see again;
The lovely boy avoided him for spite.
But in imagination, both of them,
Enraptured by his ev'ry honeyed word
Responded warmly to his charméd pen,
In such a way as all of us have heard
Who've drunk with him. Indeed, we've heard enough.
We want to tell him, man, just stick to plays.
Your wife and son have really got it rough
Just as things are. Your wand'ring eye and ways
Are getting old. Nobody wants to read
Your whiny poems, which fulfil no need!