With pensive eyes the little room I view,
  Where, in my youth, I weathered it so long;
With a wild mistress, a stanch friend or two,
  And a light heart still breaking into song:
Making a mock of life, and all its cares,
  Rich in the glory of my rising sun,
Lightly I vaulted up four pair of stairs,
  In the brave days when I was twenty-...