Board Thread:General Discussion/@comment-25112275-20141218163520/@comment-24.99.67.19-20141226182611

He was my north, my south, my east and west; /my working week and my Sunday rest;/ my moon, my midnight, my talk my song;/ I thought love would last [the entire season], I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now;/ put out every one,/ Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,/ [close down the show] and sweep away the wood/ for nothing now can ever come to any good.