“So Terrè’s gone,” I say, and sink in
My old accustom’d corner place;
“He’s done with feasting and with drinking,
With Burgundy and Bouillabaisse.”
My old accustom’d corner here is,
The table still is in the nook;
Ah! vanish’d many a busy year is;
This well-known chair since last I took,
When first I saw ye, “cari luoghi,”
I’d scarce a beard upon my face,