XIV
Old people’s simple conversations
My unpretending page shall fill,
Their offspring’s innocent flirtations
By the old lime-tree or the rill,
Their Jealousy and separation
And tears of reconciliation:
Fresh cause of quarrel then I’ll find,
But finally in wedlock bind.
The passionate speeches I’ll repeat,
Accents of rapture or despair
I uttered to my lady fair
Long ago, prostrate at her feet.
Then they came easily enow,
My tongue is somewhat rusty now.