The frequency with which I talk to you
Is pleasure in itself; were it decreased
Or, God forbid, should I find it had ceased
I do not rightly know what I would do.
I might cajole or flatter, beg and sue
To see our commerce once again increased,
But that requires chances to at least
Mention my insistent need, and to
Hear what you might think of it. So I
Cannot be sure what I would do if we
Were, as I'll say I hope we'll never be,
Out of touch. I might as well just cry
For all that I can think to do. And yet
I don't think this is something I should fret.
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