'Tis spring! the boats bound to the sea; <br />The breezes, loitering kindly over <br />The fields, again bring herds and men <br />The grateful cheer of honeyed clover. <br /> <br />Now Venus hither leads her train, <br />The Nymphs and Graces join in orgies, <br />The moon is bright and by her light <br />Old Vulcan kindles up his forges. <br /> <br />Bind myrtle now about your brow, <br />And weave fair flowers in maiden tresses-- <br />Appease God Pan, who, kind to man, <br />Our fleeting life with affluence blesses. <br /> <br />But let the changing seasons mind us <br />That Death's the certain doom of mortals-- <br />Grim Death who waits at humble gat <br />And likewise stalks through kingly portals. <br /> <br />Soon, Sestius, shall Plutonian shades <br />Enfold you with their hideous seemings-- <br />Then love and mirth and joys of earth <br />Shall fade away like fevered dreamings.<br /><br />Eugene Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/horace-i-4/
