How lovely the Renoir maiden,
Framed in silver, sitting on the shelf;
Vanity finds me in front of the mirror,
Comparing her beauty to myself
A dab of lipstick . . . touch of blush . . .
Then a rearranging of my hair;
But when I stand back and view the results,
Time's handiwork brings a sigh of despair
Alas! beauty belongs to youth,
And Time must be faithful to its art;
There's no doubt Time ravages the body . . . .
But Love rejuvenates the heart