IX — To W. R.

Madam Life's a piece in bloom

Death goes dogging everywhere:

She's the tenant of the room,

He's the ruffian on the stair.

You shall see her as a friend,

You shall bilk him once and twice;

But he'll trap you in the end,

And he'll stick you for her price.

With his kneebones at your chest,

And his knuckles in your throat,

You would reason — plead — protest!

Clutching at her petticoat;

But she's heard it all before,

Well she knows you've had your fun,

Gingerly she gains the door,

And your little job is done.