Saturday, January 09, 2010

Saturday Poetry

Phillip Ayres, 1638 - 1712

An Ode of Anacreon

My hairs are hoary, wrinkled is my Face,
I lose my strength, and all my manly grace
My eyes grow dim, my teeth are broke or gone,
And the best part of all my life is done;

I'm drown'd in cares, and often sigh and weep;
My spirits fail me, broken is my sleep
Thoughts of the gaping grave distract my head;
For in its paths, 'wake or asleep, we tread;

None can from it by art their feet restrain
Nor back, tho' wide its gates, can come again.
Then since these ills attend the life of man,
Let's make their burden easy as we can.

Cares are no cares, but whilst on them we think,
To clear our minds of such dull thoughts, let's drink.

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