Am I despised, because you say; br And I dare swear, that I am gray? br Know, Lady, you have but your day! br And time will come when you shall wear br Such frost and snow upon your hair; br And when, though long, it comes to pass, br You question with your looking-glass, br And in that sincere crystal seek br But find no rose-bud in your cheek, br Nor any bed to give the shew br Where such a rare carnation grew:- br Ah! then too late, close in your chamber keeping, br It will be told br That you are old,-- br By those true tears you're weeping.