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I The beautiful ladies of old time, | |
| That walked like angels and were as fair, | |
| Are dead and vanished, and no man’s rhyme | |
| Can paint them truly as once they were. | |
| Like pale shadows in moonlight | 5 |
| Vanished they are upon strange ways, | |
| Sudden as snow—Villon was right— | |
| The beautiful ladies of old days. | |
| But you stay always, you most dear; | |
| Though the harlots come and the harlots go | 10 |
| Walking in pomp and in great show, | |
| Still you are with me, still are here, | |
| More faithful far in a thousand ways | |
| Than the beautiful ladies of old days. | |
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II One thing I know most certainly— | 15 |
| You will not pester me nor chide; | |
| You will not quarrel much, nor be | |
| Unkind, or hasty to deride | |
| When I am stupid with my dreams. | |
| You will not cackle much nor joke | 20 |
| When I am dazzled by the gleams | |
| Of fen-fires in a world of smoke, | |
| Or somewhat silly and insane | |
| About the making of a song; | |
| Nor mock me that my face is plain, | 25 |
| Nor chide me that I am not strong. | |
| Nay, kinder than a woman is, | |
| You will not mock my vagaries. | |
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III When all my heart is laden down | |
| With worldly worries, worldly fears, | 30 |
| You will not pucker-lip nor frown | |
| Nor make me gloomier with tears. | |
| You will not make my sorrow sad | |
| With weeping and with wretchedness | |
| When all the goods I ever had | 35 |
| Have vanished in the market’s press. | |
| You will not sob nor make a scene | |
| When I come sadly home at night | |
| To tell you that my hopes have been | |
| Blown and blasted out of sight. | 40 |
| We two will light our pipe o’ clay | |
| And laugh and blow the world away. | |
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