Classic Poem

What celebration should there be? …
Quick, Lyde, bring a jar!
Against a dull sobriety
We'll wage a lusty war.

The festive sun is setting low,
The dusk is almost there;
And yet you scarcely move, as though
We both had time to spare!

Let's pour the wine and sing in turns
Of Neptune in his lair,
Of mermaids in the water-ferns,
And of their sea-green hair.

And you, upon your curving lyre,
Shall spend a tuneful hour,
Singing Diana's darts of fire
And her benignant power.

Hymns shall arise to Her who sends
Fresh laughter and delight,
Until our weary singing ends
In lullabies to-night.