TO LIGURINUS
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II
O Cruel fair, Whose flowing hair The envy and the pride of all is, As onward roll The years, that poll Will get as bald as a billiard ball is; Then shall your skin, now pink and dimply, Be tanned to parchment, sear and pimply! When you behold Yourself grown old, These words shall speak your spirits moody: "Unhappy one! What heaps of fun I've missed by being goody-goody! Oh, that I might have felt the hunger Of loveless age when I was younger!" |
THE HAPPY ISLES
| Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles In the golden haze off yonder, Where the song of the sun-kissed breeze beguiles And the ocean loves to wander. Fragrant the vines that mantle those hills, Proudly the fig rejoices, Merrily dance the virgin rills, Blending their myriad voices. Our herds shall suffer no evil there, But peacefully feed and rest them; Never thereto shall prowling bear Or serpent come to molest them. Neither shall Eurus, wanton bold, Nor feverish drought distress us, But he that compasseth heat and cold Shall temper them both to bless us. There no vandal foot has trod, And the pirate hordes that wander Shall never profane the sacred sod Of those beautiful isles out yonder. Never a spell shall blight our vines, Nor Sirius blaze above us, But you and I shall drink our wines And sing to the loved that love us. So come with me where Fortune smiles And the gods invite devotion,— Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles In the haze of that far-off ocean! |