I got love from you, and much you gave beside:

Letters and presents, sorrow shared, and pride

In life, and other dreams that since have died.

You took love, and then you took my friend

And his, and brought both to an ugly end,

A smashed thing not worth while to save or mend.

Of all we had, so warm, so brave, so fine,

To be reminded by some word or sign

Once dear, is still your privilege - and mine.