When Love was young, in days of yore,
On bended knee full oft I swore
To him alone I'd homage pay;
I'd love forever and a day,
And love with every day the more.

I sang his praises o'er and o'er;
I conned no missal but his lore —
Oh, but the world and I were gay
When Love was young!

His blazonry the morning bore,
And all the larks that sing and soar
Praised him upon their skyward way
... Ah, happy choir of yesterday,
When Love was young!