I was still a youthful wight.
[Written at the age of 77.]
WHEN I was still a youthful wight,
So full of enjoyment and merry,
The painters used to assert, in spite,
That my features were small--yes,
Yet then full many a beauteous child
With true affection upon me smil'd.
Now as a greybeard I sit here in
By street and by lane held in awe,
And may be seen, like old Frederick the Great,
On pipebowls, on cups, and on saucers.
Yet the beauteous maidens, they keep afar;
Oh vision of youth! Oh golden star!
Backgrounds By Marie