Love left one day his leafy bower,
And roamed in sportive vein,
Where Vanity had built a tower,
For Fashion's sparkling train.
The mistress to see he requested,
Of one who attended the door:
“Not home,” said the page, who suggested
That he'd leave his card.— “Au Revoir.”
Love next came to a lowly bower:
A maid who knew no guile,
Unlike the lady of the tower,
Received him with a smile.
Since then the cot beams with his brightness
Though often at Vanity's door
Love calls, merely out of politeness,
And just leaves his card.— “Au Revoir.”