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Robert W Service - The Philanderer
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Oh, have you forgotten those afternoons
With riot of roses and amber skies,
When we thrilled to the joy of a million Junes,
And I sought for your soul in the deeps of your eyes?
I would love you, I promised, forever and aye,
And I meant it too; yet, oh, isn`t it odd?
When we met in the Underground to-day
I addressed you as Mary instead of as Maude.

Oh, don`t you remember that moonlit sea,
With us on a silver trail afloat,
When I gracefully sank on my bended knee
At the risk of upsetting our little boat?
Oh, I vowed that my life was blighted then,
As friendship you proffered with mournful mien;
But now as I think of your children ten,
I`m glad you refused me, Evangeline.

Oh, is that moment eternal still
When I breathed my love in your shell-like ear,
And you plucked at your fan as a maiden will,
And you blushed so charmingly, Guenivere?
Like a worshiper at your feet I sat;
For a year and a day you made me mad;
But now, alas! you are forty, fat,
And I think: What a lucky escape I had!

Oh, maidens I`ve set in a sacred shrine,
Oh, Rosamond, Molly and Mignonette,
I`ve deemed you in turn the most divine,
In turn you`ve broken my heart . . . and yet
It`s easily mended. What`s past is past.
To-day on Lucy I`m going to call;
For I`m sure that I know true love at last,
And She is the fairest girl of all.
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