Bid me when forty winters more

Bid me when forty winters more Have furrow'd deep my pallid brow, When from my head, a scanty store, Lankly the wither'd tresses flow; When the warm tide, that bold and strong Now rolls impetuous on and free, Languid and slow scarce creeps along, Then bid me court sobriety.

Nature who form'd the varied scene Of rage and calm, of frost and fire, Unerring guide, could only mean, That age should reason, youth desire. Shall then that rebel man, presume (Inverting nature's law) to seize The dues of age in youth's high bloom, And join impossibilities?

No—let me waste the frolic May In wanton joys and wild excess, In revel sport and laughter gay And mirth, and rosy chearfulness; Woman, the soul of all delights, And wine the aid of love be near; All charms me that to joy incites, And every she that's kind is fair.