Classic Poem

Now hard winter's grip relaxes; Zephyr with sweet spring returns;
Dry keels are hauled by rollers to the sea.
For his stall no more the ox, nor for his hearth the ploughman yearns;
Nor silvered o'er with hoar-frost is the lea.
Cytherean Venus leads the Nymphs' and comely Graces' choir,
That 'neath the pendent moon with dancing feet
Tread the ground in rhythmic measure; while relit by Vulcan's fire
The huge Cyclopean forges glow with heat.
Now with fresh green myrtle leaves 'tis time to bind our glistening locks,
Or with the flowers from softened soil that spring;
Now to Faun in shady groves to offer firstlings of the flocks,
If lamb, or if a kid he bids to bring.
At the door pale death alike of pauper's hut and princely hall
Comes knocking. Sestius, fortune's favourite,
Life's brief tale of years forbids far-reaching hope. Night soon will fall,
And ghosts around thee, empty shapes, will flit
In the unsubstantial house of Pluto. Pass but once that way,
Thee dice no more to rule the feast will choose,
Nor young Lycidas will charm, whose beauty fires all youths to-day,
And soon in maidens' breasts will warmth diffuse.