Dear Jean:
Because I do not wish to burn again,
Because I do not wish again to yearn,
Because between the burning and the yearning
I do not wish, again, to turn,
I write to you, dear Jean, aux Dardanelles,
To tell you I have had a little fling--
Nothing untoward, only a bit of dancing--
With one Miss Haigh-Wood,
Which has led, sic is insisto, to a ring--
Ab initio ad finem, the sort of thing
Which is more lasting
Than any saint's soon-ended fasting
Or a perishable bunch of hyacinths.
I hope you're getting out down there
To see the Turkish sights,
mon semblable, mon frere.
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