Classic Poem

O middle-aged man, I've a word with you,
As you sit in your office this morn:
Has the worry of life, with its folly and strife,
Pierced your heart like a festering thorn?
Does the touch of your gold feel too clammy and cold?
Are you weary of flattery's scorn?

Alas! for the days when the passions of youth
Burn low in the desolate heart!
When the laughter and tears of our innocent years
Never more from the sympathies start,
And the hideous mien of indulgence is seen
'Neath the flattering mantle of art!

Perhaps you've tried friendship, and only have found
Deception and selfishness rife;
Perhaps you have poured to the needy your hoard,
To be pricked by ingratitude's knife;
And perhaps you have been through the whole round of sin —
Did you ever try courting your wife?

No? Then take my advice and I think you will find
'Tis a pleasure as charming as new.
Follow memory's track till at last you are back
To the days when you swore to be true —
Yea, dream more and more till she seems, as of yore,
To be watching and sighing for you.

And when you go home to-night buy a bouquet
Of the flowers she used to admire;
Put them into her hand, when before her you stand,
With a lover-like kiss of desire,
And, oh! watch her eyes when they ope with surprise,
And flame up from a smoldering fire!

Then all the long evening be tender and kind,
Hover near her with eager delight;
Call her " Darling " and " Sweet, " the old titles repeat
Till her face is with happiness bright —
Try it, world-wearied man, 'tis an excellent plan,
Go a-courting your dear wife to-night!