LAUREL-CROWNED Horatius, True, how true thy saying! Swift as wind flies over us Time, devouring, slaying. Where are, oh! those goblets full Of wine honey-laden, Strifes and loves and bountiful Lips of ruddy maiden? Grows the young grape tenderly, And the maid is growing; But the thirsty poet, see, Years on him are snowing! What's the use on hoary curls Of the bays undying, If we may not kiss the girls, Drink while time's a-flying? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOUNTAIN FASTNESS by HAYDEN CARRUTH A SONG OF COURAGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FINALITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MERELY STATEMENT by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 7 by CLARENCE MAJOR |