Life is no longer than thy mirth.
Happy insect! happy thou,
Dost neither age nor winter know.
But when thou’st drunk, and danc’d, and sung
Thy fill, the flowery leaves among,
(Voluptuous and wise withal,
Epicurean animal!)
Satiated with thy summer feast,
Thou retir’st to endless rest.
Translation of Abraham Cowley, 1618–1657.