I play it, though I loath it so.
This guessing game is no fun here;
Who's winning now? I do not know.
All my friends must think it queer
that i dislike and do not cheer--
but hopes are dashed and hearts do break;
the darkest game attacks each year.
They give their silly heads a shake
to ask if there it some mistake.
They play with pride and look to reap
their harvest: another heart to take.
The game seems lovely, dark, and deep
but your heart's one I long to keep
so many questions I cannot sleep,
so many wishes I cannot sleep.
