THE FLY - William Oldys Poems

 
 

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THE FLY

          An Anacreontick

BUSY, curious, thirsy Fly,
Gently drink, and drink as I;
Freely welcome to my Cup,
Could’st thou sip, and sip it up;
Make the most of Life you may,
Life is short and wears away.

Just alike, both mine and thine,
Hasten quick to their Decline;
Thine’s a Summer, mine’s no more,
Though repeated to threescore;
Threescore Summers when they’re gone,
Will appear as short as one.