A Tardy Apology

You ask me, friend,
Why I don't send
The long since due-and-paid-for numbers;
Why, songless, I
As drunken lie
Abandoned to Lethean slumbers.

Long time ago
(As well you know)
I started in upon that carmen;
My work was vain,--
But why complain?
When gods forbid, how helpless are men!

Some ages back,
The sage Anack
Courted a frisky Samian body,
Singing her praise
In metered phrase
As flowing as his bowls of toddy.

Till I was hoarse
Might I discourse
Upon the cruelties of Venus;
'T were waste of time
As well of rhyme,
For you've been there yourself, Maecenas!

Perfect your bliss
If some fair miss
Love you yourself and _not_ your minae;
I, fortune's sport,
All vainly court
The beauteous, polyandrous Phryne!

Subscribe to our newsletter.

Get updates, offers & news. Subscribe now for the latest updates. Join us today!

Monthly updates
Stay informed monthly with the latest trends and exclusive content delivered to your inbox.
No spam
Experience the ease of a spam-free subscription that prioritizes your preferences.