MASTER of many sorrows, pardon me :
And thou, dear mistress of delightful hours
Of wine-kissed lips and couches of crushed flowers
Where I have rested lightly woe is me !
Farewell, I find no more felicity
Within the shade of thy voluptuous bowers :
Boyhood slips by apace, and manhood dowers
My waning youth with wisdom mockingly.
‘Twas merry to be wild and never care
How golden moments left youth’s brittle glass,
To be contented while a woman’s hair
Caught our hot fancies in a scented snare ;
But the lure breaks, day dies, the shadows pass,
Deepening along the dial and the grass.
(Justin H. McCarthy)
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