Oh, have you forgotten those
With riot of roses and amber skies,
When we thrilled to the joy of a million Junes,
And I sought for your soul in the deeps of your eyes?
I would love you,
I promised, forever and aye,
And I meant it too; yet, oh, isn't it odd?
When we met in the Underground to-dayI addressed you as Mary instead of as Maude.
Oh, don't you remember that moonlit sea,
With us on a silver trail afloat,
When I gracefully sank on my bended
At the risk of upsetting our little boat?
Oh,
I vowed that my life was blighted then,
As friendship you proffered with mournful mien;
But now as I think of your children ten,
I'm glad you refused me,
Evangeline.
Oh, is that moment eternal
When I breathed my love in your shell-like ear,
And you plucked at your fan as a maiden will,
And you blushed so charmingly,
Guenivere?
Like a worshiper at your feet I sat;
For a year and a day you made me mad;
But now, alas! you are forty, fat,
And I think:
What a lucky escape I had!
Oh, maidens I've set in a sacred shrine,
Oh,
Rosamond,
Molly and Mignonette,
I've deemed you in turn the most divine,
In turn you've broken my heart . . . and
It's easily mended.
What's past is past.
To-day on Lucy I'm going to call;
For I'm sure that I know true love at last,
And She is the fairest girl of all.
