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Thomas Love Peacock
1785 - 1866


In the days of old

Lovers felt true passion,

Deeming years of sorrow

By a smile repaid:

Now the charms of gold,

Spells of pride and fashion,

Bid them say Good-morrow

To the best-loved Maid.

Through the forests wild,

O'er the mountains lonely,

They were never weary

Honour to pursue:

If the Damsel smiled

Once in seven years only,

All their wanderings dreary

Ample guerdon knew.

Now one day's caprice

Weighs down years of smiling,

Youthful hearts are rovers,

Love is bought and sold.

Fortune's gifts may cease,

Love is less beguiling:

Wiser were the lovers

In the days of old.


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