Three Airs For The Beggar's Opera, Air Xxii Poem by John Gay

Three Airs For The Beggar's Opera, Air Xxii



Youth's the season made for joys,
Love is then our duty;
She alone who that employs,
Well deserves her beauty.
Let's be gay,
While we may,
Beauty's a flower despis'd in decay.

Let us drink and sport to-day,
Ours is not tomorrow.
Love with youth flies swift away,
Age is nought but sorrow.
Dance and sing,
Time's on the wing,
Life never knows the return of spring.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: carpe diem
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John Gay

John Gay

Barnstaple, England
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