Horace: Book IV, Ode 11 <br /> <br />"Est mihi nonum superantis annum--" <br /> <br /> <br />Phyllis, I've a jar of wine, <br />(Alban, B.C. 49) <br />Parsley wreathes, and, for your tresses, <br />Ivy that your beauty blesses. <br /> <br />Shines my house with silverware; <br />Frondage decks the altar stair-- <br />Sacred vervain, a device <br />For a lambkin's sacrifice. <br /> <br />Up and down the household stairs <br />What a festival prepares! <br />Everybody's superintending-- <br />See the sooty smoke ascending! <br /> <br />What, you ask me, is the date <br />Of the day we celebrate? <br />13th April, month of Venus-- <br />Birthday of my boss, Mycænas. <br /> <br />Let me, Phyllis, say a word <br />Touching Telephus, a bird <br />Ranking far too high above you; <br />(And the loafer doesn't love you). <br /> <br />Lessons, Phyllie, may be learned <br />From Phaëton--how he was burned! <br />And recall Bellerophon was <br />One equestrian who thrown was. <br /> <br />Phyllis, of my loves the last, <br />My philandering days are past. <br />Sing you, in your clear contralto, <br />Songs I write for the rialto.<br /><br />Franklin P. Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-horace-to-phyllis-subject-invitation/
