Darling, you are the world's fresh ornament. Ne'er a bigger bloom could a seeker find Than this that you, dear fool, have on displayment. The displacement of my gentle mind To boudoir regions, gaudy cunning luxury, Has my old self-substantial petrol in short supply. To run this rearing gal, the new polished buxomry Demands a man—the night's auto reply To teenish hungers doesn't cut it. Give me tender pullings of the world one way And another, and I'll give right back. That's the way to increase, to fight the lack.