If you think he was old, to you I say,
Your thought obscures the truth—
Despite the years that had passed away,
He was still in his second youth.
"Ha! ha!" quoth he, "how fair she looks,"
One morn, as he did see,
A maiden sweet with her school-books,
A ward in the Chancerie.
"How fair she looks!" quoth he, and put
A load in his old black clay,