To A Beautiful Lady of a Certain Age

Lady, lady do not weep —
What is gone is gone.  Now sleep.
Turn your pillow, dry your tears,
Count thy sheep and not thy years.

Nothing good can come of this.
Time rules all, my dearest, ’tis
But folly to be waging war
On one who never lost before.

Lady, this is all in vain,
Youth can never come again;
We have drunk the summer wine,
None can make a stitch in time.

Nip and tuck ’til crack of doom,
What is foretold in the womb
May not be forsworn with gold —
Nor may time be bought or sold.

Dearest, do I love thee less,
Do I shrink from thy caress?
Think you I could cease to care?
Never was there one so fair!

Lady, lady do not weep —
What is gone is gone.  Now sleep.
Lean against me, calm your fears,
Count thy blessings, not thy years.