Oh! but my mind is weary! Long have I conned the dreary Tomes of Aratus. Surely 'tis time to play now! Ho! to the fields away now! Shall we not live to-day now? What though dull fools berate us! What is the use of learning, When it but brings new yearning Problems to tease us? When, or at eve or morning, Soon, but without a warning, Pleadings and pity scorning, Orcus the dark shall seize us. Corydon, lead the way,and Find where good wine's to pay, and Cool me a flagon! Then in vine-trellised bowers, Bedded on thick-strewn flowers, Hours upon idle hours Sweetly shall haste or lag on. Artichokes bring me, mellow Apricots, melons yellow, Cream, and strawberries. These have the sweetest savor Eaten in forest cave, or Lying by brooks that rave or Streamlet that singing tarries. Now in my youth's fresh buoyance Laughter shall wait on joyance, Wine shall flow fast now; Lest, when my life grows colder, Sickness, by age made bolder, Say, as he taps my shoulder: "Come, friend -- you've drunk your last now.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW by JOHN DONNE CRUCIFIXION TO THE WORLD BY THE CROSS OF CHRIST by ISAAC WATTS THE WIDOW'S LAMENT IN SPRINGTIME by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS WHY DRINK WINE by HENRY ALDRICH HAYMAKERS' SONG, FR. KING RENE'S HONEYMOON by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |