I had not thought to part so suddenly.
Old loves are sweet and new ones must be tried.
I had not found a fault, nor did my pride
Bid me beware even in secrecy.
Indeed, I hardly thought, so conscience-free,
Blossom should seed, seed fruit, and from my side
So dear a friend could go as one who died
Lang syne. And yet the rift was not through me.
I had walked on another hundred miles
With you-or thousand. I had been content
But to remain held in your close embrace,
I had not turned for any other's wiles.
It was your wish, November, that you went.
Can I be blamed December takes your place?
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 5 December 1938
