The air is charged with amatory numbers - <br />Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays. <br />Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers <br />The aching memory of the old, old days? <br /> <br />Time was when Love and I were well acquainted; <br />Time was when we walked ever hand in hand; <br />A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted, <br />None better loved than I in all the land! <br />Time was, when maidens of the noblest station, <br />Forsaking even military men, <br />Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration - <br />Ah me, I was a fair young curate then! <br /> <br />Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled; <br />Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear; <br />Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled; <br />And when I coughed all thought the end was near! <br />I had no care - no jealous doubts hung o'er me - <br />For I was loved beyond all other men. <br />Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me - <br />Ah me, I was a pale young curate then!<br /><br />William Schwenck Gilbert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eheu-fugaces/
