Society, friendship, and love,
Look at me, pale, sickly and wan,
I should like to give that footstool a shove,
But I really don’t know if I can.
As I listlessly turn o’er the page
Of some fanciful fickle untruth,
Bent double by premature age,
You hardly would guess at my youth.
IV.
Yes, alas! I feel seedy and old,