L'Envoi (I guess this is the final score) I guess this is the final score: Alas! I now shall write no more, Though sad's my mood; Since I've been sixty years a bard, I must admit it's rather hard To quit for good. For three-score years I've roped in rhyme, Till weary of the worn-out chime I've sought for new; But I've decided in the end, With thirty-thousand couplets penned, The old must do. So let this be the last of me; No more my personality I'll plant in verse; Within a year I may be dead, Then if my books are no more read, I'm none the worse. Far better scribes than I have gone The way to bleak oblivion With none to sigh; Ah, well! My writing's been such fun, And now my job of work is done, Dear friends, who've let me have my run, Good-bye, - good-bye! |
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