OFT am I by the Women told, Poor Anacreon, thou grow'st old. Look how thy Hairs are falling all; Poor Anacreon, how they fall! Whether I grow old or no, By th' effects I do not know. This I know without being told, 'Tis time to Live if I grow Old. 'Tis time short pleasures now to take, Of little Life the best to make, And manage wisely the last stake. |