Well, I have lost you. And I lost you fairly;
In my own way, and with my full consent.
Say what you will. Kings in a tumbrel rarely
Went to their deaths more proud than this one went.
Some nights of apprehension, and hot weeping
I will confess; but that’s permitted me;
Day dried my eyes. I was not one for keeping
Rubbed in a cage a wing that would be free.
If I had loved you less, or played you slyly,
I might have held you for a summer more,
But at the cost of words I value highly,
And no such summer as the one before.
Should I outlive this anguish – and men do –
I shall have only good to say of you.

– Edna St. Vincent Millay

because I love the poem, and I want to post it here.
That’s all.