Classic Poem

L ATONA'S grandson, by whose potions mild
The Fates with too brief distaff are beguiled,
These locks, his lord's delight, thy boy sends now
To thee from Rome to pay his solemn vow,
And this bright glass has added to the hair
Whose verdict oft assured him he was fair.
Gone are his tresses bright; yet none the less
Preserve for him his youthful comeliness.