Breaker of metes and rods,
A slender javelin tipped with light,
Hurled at the gods.
Life lies before me like a platter of coins.
“Here are the new ones! Mark the choice design!”
All cry: for me the others fade and dim,
And one alone shines clear, an old Greek coin
Demetrius sent me ... and that lovely face....
Pompey would say that I am growing old,
And Cicero would turn a phrase with me