When I longed a man to be;
When a shaven chin was a thing sublime—
And a fine thing to be free:
And methought I had nought to do but climb
To the height of felicity.
But, alas! my beard is waxen grey
Since I mingled among men;
And I’m not much wiser, nor half so gay,
Nor so good as I was then;—
And I’d give much more than I care to say