No more shall hapless Celia's ears <br />Be flattered with the cries <br />Of lovers drowned in floods of tears, <br />Or murdered by her eyes; <br />No serenades to break her rest, <br />Nor songs her slumbers to molest, <br />With my fa, la, la. <br /> <br />The fragrant flowers that once would bloom <br />And flourish in her hair, <br />Since she no longer breathes perfume <br />Their odours to repair, <br />Must fade, alas! and wither now <br />As placed on any common brow, <br />With my fa, la, la. <br /> <br />Her lip, so winning and so meek, <br />No longer has its charms; <br />As well she might by whistling seek <br />To lure us to her arms; <br />Affected once, 'tis real now, <br />As her forsaken gums may show, <br />With my fa, la, la. <br /> <br />The down that on her chin so smooth <br />So lovely once appeared, <br />That, too, has left her with her youth, <br />Or sprouts into a beard; <br />As fields, so green when newly sown, <br />With stubble stiff are overgrown, <br />With my fa, la, la. <br /> <br />Then, Celia, leave your apish tricks, <br />And change your girlish airs, <br />For ombre, snuff, and politics, <br />Those joys that suit your years; <br />No patches can lost youth recall, <br />Nor whitewash prop a tumbling wall, <br />With my fa, la, la.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-119/
