The Song of Anacreon

There is advice of Golden Worth,

By a dear Poet of Hellas birth.

Take all to mind his words of weight,

For the Sundial proves it's growing late.

As Father Time whose Hours are fleet,

Now hurries forth upon Winged feet.

Don't spend Old Age in useless toil,

We are long in Sleep beneath the Soil.

Our days are whittled to the Last,

The Chief of Sand fell in the Past.

So let all Revelry stretch till dawn,

A Second youth by needs reborn.

Let's pour the Wine and drink all health,

And fiddle songs of Dancing Wealth.

Let's flirt along with Ladies whom,

The Spring of Beauty is flush in bloom.

There Cupid waits to pierce anew,

To Strike his Prey when brought to view.

For what is War when Loves the Prize,

By flowing Cups and Girlish eyes.

Two Hearts sing better in Union formed,

For mutual Love the reason born.

So give good Cheer and toast your friends,

Forget the trials the Morrow sends.

And join in Arms about the Halls,

Not give a care till Charon calls.