We Frolic While 'tis May.

Some Bold Adventurers Disdain The Limits Of Their Little Reign, And Unknown Regions Date Descry.

And Hie Him Home, At Evening's Close, To Sweet Repast And Calm Repose.

To Brisk Notes In Cadence Beating, Glance Their Many-twinkling Feet.

Can Storied Urn, Or Animated Bust Back To Its Mansion Call The Fleeting Breath? Can Honour's Voice Provoke The Silent Dust, Or Flatt'ry Soothe The Dull Cold Ear Of Death?

Far From The Madding Crowd's Ignoble Strife.