Where are those lovely girls we used to know,
The dreamy Juliets and cool Cordelias,
Vivacious Rosalinds and pale Ophelias,
Tall tigerish Helens, the dark or golden flow
Of all that lustrous, lilac-scented hair.
Now all of them have taken different parts?
Where are those smiles that pierced our panting hearts,
The creamy robes of flesh they used to wear?

They’ve put on wiry wigs and wrinkled masks;
They move arthritically and sing like crows.
I wonder though if any of them asks,
‘Whatever happened to those Romeos?’

A few might just be trusted with a spear,
But most look like that mad old fool King Lear.