Lucius AthertonWhen my moustache curled,And my hair was black,And I wore tight trousersAnd a diamond stud,I was an excellent knave of hearts and took many a trick.But when the gray hairs began to appear—Lo! a new generation of girlsLaughed at me, not fearing me,And I had no more exciting adventuresWherein I was all but shot for a heartless devil,But only drabby affairs, warmed-over affairsOf other days and other men.And time went on until I lived atMayer’s restaurant,Partaking of short-orders, a gray, untidy,Toothless, discarded, rural Don Juan. . . .There is a mighty shade here who singsOf one named Beatrice;And I see now that the force that made him greatDrove me to the dregs of life.
When my moustache curled,And my hair was black,And I wore tight trousersAnd a diamond stud,I was an excellent knave of hearts and took many a trick.But when the gray hairs began to appear—Lo! a new generation of girlsLaughed at me, not fearing me,And I had no more exciting adventuresWherein I was all but shot for a heartless devil,But only drabby affairs, warmed-over affairsOf other days and other men.And time went on until I lived atMayer’s restaurant,Partaking of short-orders, a gray, untidy,Toothless, discarded, rural Don Juan. . . .There is a mighty shade here who singsOf one named Beatrice;And I see now that the force that made him greatDrove me to the dregs of life.