We breathe such buoyant bliss that we betray
Our sportive spirits strangely-sans souci
Sweet is the sunshine, soft the summer's sway,
And dear the dreaming of these days distraits
We find we ye, so fainéants and free,
O halcyon hours of happy holiday!
Cotsford Dick.
"TU NE QUAESIERIS."
Seek not, O maid, to know
(Alas! unblest the trying!)
When thou and I must go.
No lore of stars can show.
What shall be, vainly prying,
Seek not, O maid, to know.
Will Jove long years bestow?-
Or is't with this one dying,
That thou and I must go;
Now,-when the great winds blow
And waves the reef are plying?...
Seek not, O maid, to know.
Rather let clear wine flow,
On no vain hope relying;
When thou and I must go
Lies dark; then be it so.
Now,—now, churl Time is flying;
Seek not, O maid, to know
When thou and I must go.