To Scythian and Cantabrian plots, <br />Pay them no heed, O Quintius! <br />So long as we <br />From care are free, <br />Vexations cannot cinch us. <br /> <br />Unwrinkled youth and grace, forsooth, <br />Speed hand in hand together; <br />The songs we sing <br />In time of spring <br />Are hushed in wintry weather. <br /> <br />Why, even flow'rs change with the hours, <br />And the moon has divers phases; <br />And shall the mind <br />Be racked to find <br />A clew to Fortune's mazes? <br /> <br />Nay; 'neath this tree let you and me <br />Woo Bacchus to caress us; <br />We're old, 't is true, <br />But still we two <br />Are thoroughbreds, God bless us! <br /> <br />While the wine gets cool in yonder pool, <br />Let's spruce up nice and tidy; <br />Who knows, old boy, <br />But we may decoy <br />The fair but furtive Lyde? <br /> <br />She can execute on her ivory lute <br />Sonatas full of passion, <br />And she bangs her hair <br />(Which is passing fair) <br />In the good old Spartan fashion.<br /><br />Eugene Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-quintus-hirpinus/
