I'm thinking of the wooing <br />That won my maiden heart <br />When he--he came pursuing <br />A love unused to art. <br />Into the drowsy river <br />The moon transported flung <br />Her soul that seemed to quiver <br />With the songs my lover sung. <br />And the stars in rapture twinkled <br />On the slumbrous world below-- <br />You see that, old and wrinkled, <br />I'm not forgetful--no! <br /> <br />He still should be repeating <br />The vows he uttered then-- <br />Alas! the years, though fleeting, <br />Are truer yet than men! <br />The summer moonlight glistens <br />In the favorite trysting spot <br />Where the river ever listens <br />For a song it heareth not. <br />And I, whose head is sprinkled <br />With time's benumbing snow, <br />I languish, old and wrinkled, <br />But not forgetful--no! <br /> <br />What though he elsewhere turneth <br />To beauty strangely bold? <br />Still in my bosom burneth <br />The tender fire of old; <br />And the words of love he told me <br />And the songs he sung me then <br />Come crowding to uphold me, <br />And I live my youth again! <br />For when love's feet have tinkled <br />On the pathway women go, <br />Though one be old and wrinkled, <br />She's not forgetful--no!<br /><br />Eugene Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-spanish-song/
