A Hint to Cynics
Youth , beauty, love, delight,
All blessings bright and dear,
Like shooting stars by night,
Flash, fall, and disappear.
Let Cynics doubt their worth,
Because they're born to die,
The wiser sons of earth
Will snatch them ere they fly.
Tho' mingled with alloy,
We throw not gold away;
Then why reject the joy
That's blended with decay?
All blessings bright and dear,
Like shooting stars by night,
Flash, fall, and disappear.
Let Cynics doubt their worth,
Because they're born to die,
The wiser sons of earth
Will snatch them ere they fly.
Tho' mingled with alloy,
We throw not gold away;
Then why reject the joy
That's blended with decay?
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