When first my old, old love I knew, <br />My bosom welled with joy; <br />My riches at her feet I threw; <br />I was a love-sick boy! <br />No terms seemed too extravagant <br />Upon her to employ - <br />I used to mope, and sigh, and pant, <br />Just like a love-sick boy! <br /> <br />But joy incessant palls the sense; <br />And love unchanged will cloy, <br />And she became a bore intense <br />Unto her love-sick boy? <br />With fitful glimmer burnt my flame, <br />And I grew cold and coy, <br />At last, one morning, I became <br />Another's love-sick boy!<br /><br />William Schwenck Gilbert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-love-sick-boy/
