Horace, Odes, iv, 7 The snows are fled away, leaves on… And grasses in the mead renew thei… The river to the river-bed withdra… And altered is the fashion of the…

“Is my team ploughing, That I was used to drive And hear the harness jingle When I was man alive?” Ay, the horses trample,

When I watch the living meet And the moving pageant file Warm and breathing through the str… Where I lodge a little while, If the heats of hate and lust

Westward on the high-hilled plains Where for me the world began, Still, I think, in newer veins Frets the changeless blood of man. Now that other lads than I

Now hollow fires burn out to black… And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your p… And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought’s to dr…

Loitering with a vacant eye Along the Grecian gallery, And brooding on my heavy ill, I met a statue standing still. Still in marble stone stood he,

When the eye of day is shut, And the stars deny their beams, And about the forest hut Blows the roaring wood of dreams, From deep clay, from desert rock,

From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I. Now—for a breath I tarry

When first my way to fair I took Few pence in purse had I, And long I used to stand and look

CHORUS: O suitably-attired-in-… Head of a traveller, wherefore see… Whence by what way how purposed ar… To this well-nightingaled vicinity… My object in inquiring is to know.

It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows ov…

At the door of my own little hovel… Reading a novel I sat; And as I was reading the novel A gnat flew away with my hat. As fast as a fraudulent banker

Be still, my soul, be still; the a… Earth and high heaven are fixt of… Think rather,—call to thought, if… The days when we had rest, O soul… Men loved unkindness then, but lig…

Oh fair enough are sky and plain, But I know fairer far: Those are as beautiful again That in the water are; The pools and rivers wash so clean

“Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die. ”Oh, at home had I but stayed