Cleone to Aspasia

We mind not how the sun in the mid-sky
Is hastening on; but when the golden orb
Strikes the extreme of earth, and when the gulphs
Of air and ocean open to receive him,
Dampness and gloom invade us; then we think
Ah! thus is it with Youth. Too fast his feet
Run on for sight; hour follows hour; fair maid
Succeeds fair maid; bright eyes bestar his couch;
The cheerful horn awakens him; the feast,
The revel, the entangling dance, allure.
And voices mellower than the Muse's own
Heap up his buoyant bosom on their wave.
A little while, and then . . Ah Youth! Youth! Youth!
Listen not to my words . . but stay with me!
When thou art gone, Life may go too; the sigh
That rises is for thee, and not for Life.