I sometimes think I'm on the brink Of old age, and its care, But my old heart reflects youth's art Depicted in your hair; 'Tis wondrous, Lady mine, Yes, wondrous, Lady mine. I fear me quite, if such delight Were mine long to behold, My years would fly, and soon would I Again as youth be bold; What wonder, Lady mine, No wonder, Lady mine. Some roses blown have often shown Attraction for the bee, My years, I trust, have not grown rust, Perchance there's hope for me, What say you, Lady mine, Say "Hope," sweet Lady mine! |