 | Weeping-Cross and Other Rimes by A. H. Bullen |  |
48
THE UNKNOWN
Old am I grown and grey,
No girl will look at me:
I hear them sigh and say:
“Alas, to think that we
May come like him to be!”
No girl will look at me:
I hear them sigh and say:
“Alas, to think that we
May come like him to be!”
Minxes, I scorn your pity:
There's one who loves me well,
A lady, beauteous, witty,
Who doth you all excel:
Some day her name I'll tell.
There's one who loves me well,
A lady, beauteous, witty,
Who doth you all excel:
Some day her name I'll tell.
| Weeping-Cross and Other Rimes by A. H. Bullen | |