Old Melbourne Memories/Wanted
WANTED
Why should I be twenty-three?
What are the virtues they can see
Just about to bloom in me
In the magical year of twenty-three?
Does a maiden, fair and free,
Get prudent just at twenty-three?
Whatever can the reason be
That they want a girl just twenty-three?
Dignified matron, whoever you be,
Would not twenty-two do for thee?
Would twenty-one be shown to the door,
And twenty told to come no more?
Nineteen, perhaps, would hardly be fit,
Eighteen strikes one as rather a chit.
Why must you search o'er land and sea
For the golden age of twenty-three?
Still the years glide on—for you and for me,
We're nearer, or farther from, twenty-three.
Oft, as I sit over my five o'clock tea,
I think, did she get her? age twenty-three!
When friends are cold and unkind to me,
I think there's a refuge when twenty-three.
On my birthday I'll write, unknown friend, to thee,
Exclaiming, " Here, take me, I'm twenty-three!"