Classic Poem

Above the fire-place, where great red logs smoulder,
Although it is the heart of summer tide,
Painted full length, no younger and no older,
Than at this moment standing by its side,
I recognise . . . and faith! my blood runs colder
Somewhat . . . Myself . Yes, in my prime and pride,
Eyes that look dreamy, lip that arches merrily . . .
Myself , by Zeus. 'Tis a strange meeting, verily.