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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>His Age:dedicated To His Peculiar Friend,mr John Wickes, Under The Name Ofpostumus</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ah, Posthumus! our years hence fly<br>And leave no sound: nor piety,<br>Or prayers, or vow<br>Can keep the wrinkle from the brow;<br>But we must on,<br>As fate does lead or draw us; none,<br>None, Posthumus, could e'er decline<br>The doom of cruel Proserpine.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The pleasing wife, the house, the ground<br>Must all be left, no one plant found<br>To follow thee,<br>Save only the curst cypress-tree!<br>--A merry mind<br>Looks forward, scorns what's left behind;<br>Let's live, my Wickes, then, while we may,<br>And here enjoy our holiday.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We've seen the past best times, and these<br>Will ne'er return; we see the seas,<br>And moons to wane,<br>But they fill up their ebbs again;<br>But vanish'd man,<br>Like to a lily lost, ne'er can,<br>Ne'er can repullulate, or bring<br>His days to see a second spring.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But on we must, and thither tend,<br>Where Ancus and rich Tullus blend<br>Their sacred seed;<br>Thus has infernal Jove decreed;<br>We must be made,<br>Ere long a song, ere long a shade.<br>Why then, since life to us is short,<br>Let's make it full up by our sport.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Crown we our heads with roses then,<br>And 'noint with Tyrian balm; for when<br>We two are dead,<br>The world with us is buried.<br>Then live we free<br>As is the air, and let us be<br>Our own fair wind, and mark each one<br>Day with the white and lucky stone.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We are not poor, although we have<br>No roofs of cedar, nor our brave<br>Baiae, nor keep<br>Account of such a flock of sheep;<br>Nor bullocks fed<br>To lard the shambles; barbels bred<br>To kiss our hands; nor do we wish<br>For Pollio's lampreys in our dish.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">If we can meet, and so confer,<br>Both by a shining salt-cellar,<br>And have our roof,<br>Although not arch'd, yet weather-proof,<br>And cieling free,<br>From that cheap candle-baudery;<br>We'll eat our bean with that full mirth<br>As we were lords of all the earth.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Well, then, on what seas we are tost,<br>Our comfort is, we can't be lost.<br>Let the winds drive<br>Our bark, yet she will keep alive<br>Amidst the deeps;<br>'Tis constancy, my Wickes, which keeps<br>The pinnace up; which, though she errs<br>I' th' seas, she saves her passengers.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Say, we must part; sweet mercy bless<br>Us both i' th' sea, camp, wilderness!<br>Can we so far<br>Stray, to become less circular<br>Than we are now?<br>No, no, that self-same heart, that vow<br>Which made us one, shall ne'er undo,<br>Or ravel so, to make us two.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Live in thy peace; as for myself,<br>When I am bruised on the shelf<br>Of time, and show<br>My locks behung with frost and snow;<br>When with the rheum,<br>The cough, the pthisic, I consume<br>Unto an almost nothing; then,<br>The ages fled, I'll call again,</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And with a tear compare these last<br>Lame and bad times with those are past,<br>While Baucis by,<br>My old lean wife, shall kiss it dry;<br>And so we'll sit<br>By th' fire, foretelling snow and slit<br>And weather by our aches, grown<br>Now old enough to be our own</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">True calendars, as puss's ear<br>Wash'd o'er 's, to tell what change is near;<br>Then to assuage<br>The gripings of the chine by age,<br>I'll call my young<br>Iulus to sing such a song<br>I made upon my Julia's breast,<br>And of her blush at such a feast.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then shall he read that flower of mine<br>Enclosed within a crystal shrine;<br>A primrose next;<br>A piece then of a higher text;<br>For to beget<br>In me a more transcendant heat,<br>Than that insinuating fire<br>Which crept into each aged sire</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When the fair Helen from her eyes<br>Shot forth her loving sorceries;<br>At which I'll rear<br>Mine aged limbs above my chair;<br>And hearing it,<br>Flutter and crow, as in a fit<br>Of fresh concupiscence, and cry,<br>'No lust there's like to Poetry.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Thus frantic, crazy man, God wot,<br>I'll call to mind things half-forgot;<br>And oft between<br>Repeat the times that I have seen;<br>Thus ripe with tears,<br>And twisting my Iulus' hairs,<br>Doting, I'll weep and say, 'In truth,<br>Baucis, these were my sins of youth.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then next I'Il cause my hopeful lad,<br>If a wild apple can be had,<br>To crown the hearth;<br>Lar thus conspiring with our mirth;<br>Then to infuse<br>Our browner ale into the cruse;<br>Which, sweetly spiced, we'll first carouse<br>Unto the Genius of the house.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then the next health to friends of mine.<br>Loving the brave Burgundian wine,<br>High sons of pith,<br>Whose fortunes I have frolick'd with;<br>Such as could well<br>Bear up the magic bough and spell;<br>And dancing 'bout the mystic Thyrse,<br>Give up the just applause to verse;</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">To those, and then again to thee,<br>We'll drink, my Wickes, until we be<br>Plump as the cherry,<br>Though not so fresh, yet full as merry<br>As the cricket,<br>The untamed heifer, or the pricket,<br>Until our tongues shall tell our ears,<br>We're younger by a score of years.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507341" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Thus, till we see the fire less shine<br>From th' embers than the kitling's eyne,<br>We'll still sit up,<br>Sphering about the wassail cup,<br>To all those times<br>Which gave me honour for my rhymes;<br>The coal once spent, we'll then to bed,<br>Far more than night bewearied.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Robert+Herrick">Robert Herrick</a></strong></div>