Time was when Paris all did pray
Because I broke my arm! And yet
Who now recalls my queen-like sway
O’er those whom Death did not forget?
“Time on my visage many a scar
Hath graven deep. No longer gay
My voice, that once could make or mar
The Minister who failed to pay
Just tribute to my charms. Decay
My once slim, rounded limbs doth fret;