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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510838" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Rival</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I go to concert, party, ball --<br>What profit is in these?<br>I sit alone against the wall<br>And strive to look at ease.<br>The incense that is mine by right<br>They burn before her shrine;<br>And that's because I'm seventeen<br>And She is forty-nine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I cannot check my girlish blush,<br>My color comes and goes;<br>I redden to my finger-tips,<br>And sometimes to my nose.<br>But She is white where white should be,<br>And red where red should shine.<br>The blush that flies at seventeen<br>Is fixed at forty-nine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wish I had Her constant cheek;<br>I wish that I could sing<br>All sorts of funny little songs,<br>Not quite the proper thing.<br>I'm very gauche and very shy,<br>Her jokes aren't in my line;<br>And, worst of all, I'm seventeen<br>While She is forty-nine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The young men come, the young men go<br>Each pink and white and neat,<br>She's older than their mothers, but<br>They grovel at Her feet.<br>They walk beside Her 'rickshaw wheels --<br>None ever walk by mine;<br>And that's because I'm seventeen<br>And She is foty-nine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She rides with half a dozen men,<br>(She calls them &quot;boys&quot; and &quot;mashers&quot;)<br>I trot along the Mall alone;<br>My prettiest frocks and sashes<br>Don't help to fill my programme-card,<br>And vainly I repine<br>From ten to two A.M. Ah me!<br>Would I were forty-nine!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She calls me &quot;darling,&quot; &quot;pet,&quot; and &quot;dear,&quot;<br>And &quot;sweet retiring maid.&quot;<br>I'm always at the back, I know,<br>She puts me in the shade.<br>She introduces me to men,<br>&quot;Cast&quot; lovers, I opine,<br>For sixty takes to seventeen,<br>Nineteen to foty-nine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But even She must older grow<br>And end Her dancing days,<br>She can't go on forever so<br>At concerts, balls and plays.<br>One ray of priceless hope I see<br>Before my footsteps shine;<br>Just think, that She'll be eighty-one<br>When I am forty-nine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rudyard+Kipling">Rudyard Kipling</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510838" data-title="My Rival de Rudyard Kipling" data-description="I go to concert, party, ball --
What profit is in these?
I sit alone against the wall
And strive to look at ease.
The incense that is mine by right
They burn before her shrine;
And that's because I'm seventeen
And She is forty-nine.

I cannot chec..."></div>
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