XIV

2 0 00

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.