Though I have many words,

What woman's satisfied,

I am no longer faint

Because at her side?

Oh, who could have foretold

That the heart grows old?

I have not lost desire

But the heart that I had,

I thought 'twould burn my body

Laid on the death-bed.

But who could have foretold

That the heart grows old?

[23]

[23]

TO A YOUNG BEAUTY

Dear fellow-artist, why so free

With every sort of company,

With every Jack and Jill?

Choose your companions from the best;

Who draws a bucket with the rest

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