SAY, ye studious, grave, and old,
Tell me, all ye fair and gay,
Tell me, where I may behold
The fleeting forms of YESTERDAY?
Where’s autumnal plenty sped?
Winter! where’s thy boisterous sway?
Where’s the vernal flowret fled?
Summer! where’s thy YESTERDAY?
Jocund sprites of social joy
Round our smiling goblet play;
Flit ye powers of rude annoy,
Like the ghost of YESTERDAY.
Odorous sweets,—and KERZEROM* wine,
Hither, boy! with speed convey;
Jasmin wreaths with roses twine,
Ere they fade like YESTERDAY.
Brim the bowl, and pass it round;
Lightly tune the sportive lay:
Let the festal hour be crown’d,
Ere ’tis lost like YESTERDAY!