Читать книгу Debits and Credits - Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг - Страница 12
ОглавлениеHorace, Ode 17, Bk. V.
HOW comes it that, at even-tide. When level beams should show most truth. Man, failing, takes unfailing pride In memories of his frolic youth? Venus and Liber fill their hour; The games engage, the law-courts prove; Till hardened life breeds love of power Or Avarice, Age's final love. Yet at the end, these comfort not-- Nor any triumph Fate decrees- Compared with glorious, unforgot-- ten innocent enormities Of frontless days before the beard. When, instant on the casual jest. The God Himself of Mirth appeared And snatched us to His heaving breast. And we-not caring who He was But certain He would come again-- Accepted all He brought to pass As Gods accept the lives of men... Then He withdrew from sight and speech. Nor left a shrine. How comes it now. While Charon's keel grates on the beach. He calls so clear: 'Rememberest thou?'?
