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Eugene Field - Horace II, 3.
Work rating: Low

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._
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