The Same Old Story

The same old story told again -         The maiden droops her head,     The ripening glow of her crimson cheek         Is answering in her stead.     The pleading tone of a trembling voice         Is telling her the way     He loved her when his heart was young         In Youth's sunshiny day:     The trembling tongue, the longing tone,         Imploringly ask why     They can not be as happy now         As in the days gone by.     And two more hearts, tumultuous         With overflowing joy,     Are dancing to the music         Which that dear, provoking boy     Is twanging on his bowstring,         As, fluttering his wings,     He sends his love-charged arrows         While merrily be sings:     "Ho! ho! my dainty maiden,         It surely can not be     You are thinking you are master         Of your heart, when it is me."     And another gleaming arrow         Does the little god's behest,     And the dainty little maiden         Falls upon her lover's breast.     "The same old story told again,"         And listened o'er and o'er,     Will still be new, and pleasing, too,         Till "Time shall be no more."