Why must you search o'er land and sea
For the golden age of twenty-three?
Still the years glide on—for you and for me,
We're nearer, or farther from, twenty-three.
Oft, as I sit over my five o'clock tea,
I think, did she get her? age twenty-three!
When friends are cold and unkind to me,
I think there's a refuge when twenty-three.
On my birthday I'll write, unknown friend, to thee,
Exclaiming, "Here, take me, I'm twenty-three!"