Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/474

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THE OLD BACHELOR.
I was just sixteen when I first fell in love, And I scribbled a deal of rhyme,And I talked to myself in a shady grove, And I thought I was quite sublime.I was torn from my love—'twas a dreadful blow— And the lady she wiped her eye;But I didn't die of grief—oh, dear me, no! "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
The next was a lady of rank—a dame With blood in her veins, you see;With the leaves of Peerage she fanned the flame That now was consuming me.But though of her great descent she spoke, I found she was still very high;And I thought looking up to a wife no joke— "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
My next penchant was for one whose face Was her fortune, she was so fair;Oh! she spoke with an air of enchanting grace, But a man cannot live upon air;And when poverty enters the door, young love Will out of the casement fly;The truth of the proverb Pd no wish to prove— "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
My next was a lady who loved romance, And wrote very splendid things;And she said, with a sneer, when I asked her to dance, "Sir, I ride upon a horse with wings."There was ink on her thumb, when I kissed her hand, And she whispered, "If you should die,I will write you an Epitaph, gloomy and grand I" "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
I left her and sported my figure and face At opera, party, and ball;I met pretty girls at every place, And I found a defect in all.The first did not suit me, I cannot tell how, The second, I cannot tell why,And the third, bless me, I will not marry now— "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
I looked in the glass, and I thought I could trace A sort of a wrinkle or two;So I made up my mind that I'd make up my face, And come out as good as new.
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