Riffing on Edna

Riffing with Larry the other day about something or other, I recalled:

I once knew a man from Khartoum
Who kept a live sheep in his room.
It reminds me, he said,
Of a lover long dead.
But I never can quite recall whom.

...which I have always thought the saddest poem in the English language. But it does remind me of

What my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten...

...which just naturally prompted Larry to remember one of the lost verses of Abdul the Bulbul Amir

She could make love all night like a Sultan's delight
Then sit writing sonnets all day
And that's why the pet of the old Boho set
Was Edna St. Vincent Millay.

 ...and I could only respond with

The old, oaken Edna,
The ironclad Edna,
the moss-covered Edna
St. Vincent Millay

Which left Larry to observe that with the closing of his neighborhood hospital, she will henceforth have to be known as Edna Beth Israel Millay.

Some guys have too much time on their hands.