Breathe, but do not heave.
It is impolite to heave.
Cry if you must, but do not sob.
Sobbing is bad form.
Eat moderately; do not indulge.
Gluttony is a hateful thing.
The heart may some time feel
As if it would burst from the chest.
On such an occasion it is good
Simply to lift the right hand
Placing the fingertips lightly upon the breast
And uttering a modest sigh.
Remain aloof; do not rage.
The rabble are the sort who rage.
Write a poem; do not whine.
Poetry unveils a moderate elegance.
Restrict the arms; do not flail.
They are savages who flail.
The mind may come to hold
That love’s a silly thing to entertain.
Love is indeed a pleasant toy
To hold but once and cherish well,
But once one’s loved and also lost
It proves unwise to love again.
Carry the self blithely; do not pine.
It is utterly maudlin to pine.
Sob if you must, but not in company.
Emotion is a ghastly thing.
It is best hidden away in loaded words
And discarded for the sake of propriety.