Within a cool and pleasant shade

Within a cool and pleasant shade, By myrtles and by poplars made, I sit where roses round me twine, And langhing Cupid brings me wine; His loosely flowing garments ty'd With reeds pluck'd from the river-side. The moments swiftly fly, I feel, Quick-whirling like a chariot-wheel; And when a few sleet years are pasl, Life gone, we turn to dust at last. Say, why should we anoint the dead, Or why sweet flow'rs around them spread? Why pour libations on their tomb? 'Tis liquor wasted: rather come, And pour on me the ointment; bring The rose, and all the flow'rs that spring Around us wild; and bring to me A lass that's pretty, kind, and free; For I'm resolv'd, before I go To Plutus and the realms below, To cast my ev'ry care away, Laugh and be happy while I may.