Explore "Horace II, 3" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Be tranquil, Dellius, I pray; / For though you pine your life away / With dull complaining breath, / Or speed with song and wine each day -- / Still, still your doom is death.
Where the white poplar and the pine / In glorious arching shade combine / And the brook singing goes, / Bid them bring store of nard and wine / And garlands of the rose.
Let's live while chance and youth obtain -- / Soon shall you quit this fair domain / Kissed by the Tiber's gold, / And all your earthly pride and gain / Some heedless heir shall hold.
One ghostly boat shall some time bear / From scenes of mirthfulness or care / Each fated human soul! -- / Shall waft and leave his burden where / The waves of Lethe roll.
_So come, I pri' thee, Dellius, mine -- / Let's sing our songs and drink our wine / In that sequestered nook / Where the white poplar and the pine / Stand listening to the brook._