c/0 St. Ignatus House, Willoughby Drive, Parrametta,
  New South Wales
  This fifth day of July, in the year of Our Lord nineteen
  hundred and thirty five
  Why must I apologize every time that I sit down to write
  Through my own fault I may find
  You're no longer living at this address
  Please excuse the lack of news
  The feeling of strange privilege
  for the hour of trial, in these times of distress
  Mean more than years imprisoned by etiquette.
  
  I can remember when we were children
  Though I could never imagine this day
  Your brother told me we'd live forever
  "I'll go one better," I heard myself say
  And it seems so strange, now that he's gone to recall all these
  games
  While the years have divided us
  Friendships have strained and broken
  
  Oh, by the way, how's that girl that you wed
  I hated you then, but I'm over the worst of it
  I can't come home, I might as well say, life is short
  I shall not write again