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THIRSTY
earth
drinks
up
the
rain,
Trees
from
earth
drink
that
again;
Ocean
drinks
the
air;
the
sun
Drinks
the
sea,
and
him
the
moon.
Any
reason,
canst
thou
think,
I
should
thirst
while
all
these
drink
?
ANACREON.
DRINK
!
enjoy
the
hour;
what
the
morrow
bringeth
None
can
tell;
then
vex
not
thy
soul
with
idle
care;
Being
and
Not-being
but
a
point
divideth;
Life
is
but
a
moment;
then
make
that
moment
fair.
Piles
of
hoarded
treasure,
heaps
of
gold
and
silver
Hades
self
might
chuckle,
when
thou
call'st
them
thine;
Surely
thou
hast
nothing
but
that
which
thou
enjoyest:
Only
while
enjoying
canst
thou
say,
"
Tis
mine."
AN
OLD
POET.
HE
who
joy
has
never
found
In
the
flute's
entrancing
sound,
Bacchus'
gifts
who
dares
despise
Song
and
laugh
and
maidens'
eyes;
He
who
at
his
grudging
board,
Thinks
upon
his
growing
hoard,
Reckoning
interest
in
his
head
Him
I
count
already
dead.
Shuddering
and
disgusted,
I
Pass
the
meagre
carcass
by.
AN
OLD
POET.
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