Yes; I write verses now and then,

Yes; I write verses now and then,     But blunt and flaccid is my pen,     No longer talkt of by young men     As rather clever:     In the last quarter are my eyes,     You see it by their form and size;     Is it not time then to be wise?     Or now or never.     Fairest that ever sprang from Eve!     While Time allows the short reprieve,     Just look at me! would you believe     'Twas once a lover?     I cannot clear the five-bar gate,     But, trying first its timber's state,     Climb stiffly up, take breath, and wait     To trundle over.     Thro' gallopade I cannot swing     The entangling blooms of Beauty's spring:     I cannot say the tender thing,     Be 't true or false,     And am beginning to opine     Those girls are only half-divine     Whose waists yon wicked boys entwine     In giddy waltz.     I fear that arm above that shoulder,     I wish them wiser, graver, older,     Sedater, and no harm if colder     And panting less.     Ah! people were not half so wild     In former days, when, starchly mild,     Upon her high-heel'd Essex smiled     The brave Queen Bess.