From A Letter From Lesbia

... So, praise the gods, Catullus is away!
  And let me tend you this advice, my dear:
Take any lover that you will, or may,
  Except a poet. All of them are queer.

It's just the same- a quarrel or a kiss
  Is but a tune to play upon his pipe.
He's always hymning that or wailing this;
  Myself, I much prefer the business type.

That thing he wrote, the time the sparrow died-
  (Oh, most unpleasant- gloomy, tedious words!)
I called it sweet, and made believe I cried;
  The stupid fool! I've always hated birds....