Of old, when in the dance's-whirl
Or crouched behind a friendly screen
I fell in love with any girl
(You know the kind of love I mean),
I gave the credit to champagne--
And breathed again.
When first we met, a more intense
Emotion stirred me, I admit,
But having dined at great expense
I didn't like to mention it,
For tribute seemed to Bacchus due
As much as you.
But love that made a parish hop
A sacred feast for both of us
Burst into flame without a drop
Of alcoholic stimulus;
And love that thrives on lemonade
Can never fade.
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