Classic Poem

One song for the first sweethearts,
Ah me!
For the loves of our boyhood days;
Our tender regret for them never departs;
Nor fades in oblivion's haze.

One song for the sweet little girls,
Ah me!
For the faces all lily and pink;
For the dears that wore pinafores, ribbons and curls,
Whom we loved to insanity's brink.

There was tenderness free from guile,
Ah me!
And the faith of our earliest youth;
When the buds of affection oped first at a smile,
And thrived in the sunshine of truth.

My sweetheart is dead years and years,
Ah me!
And yours to another is wed;
But we'll sigh for them both, and we'll mingle our tears,
For to us they are both of them dead.

If they were our wives, do you think,
Ah me!
They would still be the girls that we knew?
Will heart-freshness outwear the lily and pink?
Has it ever remained a life through?

For if such a thing were in life,
Ah me!
And there were no drifting apart,
Each man would be happy, I ween, with his wife,
His dear little first sweetheart.