Dot

I have been surprisingly fatigued
By evening strolls along forgotten beaches
And stayed forever sadly unintrigued
By full moons shining on their nether reaches;
I have been bored by countless hands of cards,
No matter what the stakes, or what the game was,
And listened off-and-on to Abelards
Loudly loving whatever her name was;
I have ignored full symphonies in tune
Who thought I should adore their new concerto,
And, speaking to all Dartmouth just last June,
Wished I was vox clamantis in deserto;
But when we are at last alone, we two,
I find true ennui lives here with you.