Explore "Horace I, 4" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
'Tis spring! the boats bound to the sea; / The breezes, loitering kindly over / The fields, again bring herds and men / The grateful cheer of honeyed clover.
Now Venus hither leads her train, / The Nymphs and Graces join in orgies, / The moon is bright and by her light / Old Vulcan kindles up his forges.
Bind myrtle now about your brow, / And weave fair flowers in maiden tresses -- / Appease God Pan, who, kind to man, / Our fleeting life with affluence blesses.
But let the changing seasons mind us / That Death's the certain doom of mortals -- / Grim Death who waits at humble gat / And likewise stalks through kingly portals.
Soon, Sestius, shall Plutonian shades / Enfold you with their hideous seemings -- / Then love and mirth and joys of earth / Shall fade away like fevered dreamings.