Today a note came through my door From a friend I've know since long before She said "let us not fight For that would not be right Yours truly now and for evermore" I puzzled it through in my head Thrice more its contents I read I endeavoured to try To write in reply "I don't hate you but love you instead" I wish I were Byron or Chaucer But I would not want words to force her Lest we should forget What it means to regret For at night these words seem so much coarser