I say it under the rose—
  Oh, thanks!—yes, under the laurel,
We part lovers, not foes;
  We are not going to quarrel.

We have too long been friends
  On foot and in gilded coaches,
Now that the whole thing ends,
  To spoil our kiss with reproaches.

I leave you; my soul is wrung;
  I pause, look back from the portal—...