Classic Poem

Ah Julius mine, I count no friend more dear,
So faithful love and friendship have we known;
And now your sixtieth consulate is near,
How few the days that you can call your own;
Defer not joy, but claim the past alone;
Trust not a fortune that may ne'er appear,
Too oft we find that winged joys are flown;
But care and linked toils are ever here.
Nay, with both hands, we needs must grasp delight
And hold her to our heart while yet we may:
Yet even thus she oft doth mock our might
And from the fond embrace doth glide away.
True wisdom saith not " Life shall soon be bright";
To-morrow is too late — Live thou to-day.