The years have gathered grayly Since I danced upon this leaze With one who kindled gaily Love's fitful ecstasies!
But despite the term as teacher, I remain what I was then In each essential feature Of the fantasies of men.
Yet I note the little chisel Of never-napping Time, Defacing ghast and grizzel The blazon of my prime.
When at night he thinks me sleeping, I feel him boring sly Within my bones, and heaping Quaintest pains for by-and-by.
Still, I'd go the world with Beauty, I would laugh with her and sing, I would shun divinest duty To resume her worshipping.
But she'd scorn my brave endeavour, She would not balm the breeze By murmuring "Thine for ever!"As she did upon this leaze.
1890.
