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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472352" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ad Amicos</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Dumque virent genua<br>Et decet, obducta solvatur fonte senectus.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE muse of boyhood's fervid hour<br>Grows tame as skies get chill and hazy;<br>Where once she sought a passion-flower,<br>She only hopes to find a daisy.<br>Well, who the changing world bewails?<br>Who asks to have it stay unaltered?<br>Shall grown-up kittens chase their tails?<br>Shall colts be never shod or haltered?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Are we 'The Boys' that used to make<br>The tables ring with noisy follies?<br>Whose deep-lunged laughter oft would shake<br>The ceiling with its thunder-volleys?<br>Are we the youths with lips unshorn,<br>At beauty's feet unwrinkled suitors,<br>Whose memories reach tradition's morn,--<br>The days of prehistoric tutors?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The Boys' we knew,--but who are these<br>Whose heads might serve for Plutarch's sages,<br>Or Fox's martyrs, if you please,<br>Or hermits of the dismal ages?<br>'The Boys' we knew--can these be those?<br>Their cheeks with morning's blush were painted;--<br>Where are the Harrys, Jims, and Joes<br>With whom we once were well acquainted?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If we are they, we're not the same;<br>If they are we, why then they're masking;<br>Do tell us, neighbor What 's--your--name,<br>Who are you?--What's the use of asking?<br>You once were George, or Bill, or Ben;<br>There's you, yourself--there 's you, that other--<br>I know you now--I knew you then--<br>You used to be your younger brother!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You both are all our own to-day,--<br>But ah! I hear a warning whisper;<br>Yon roseate hour that flits away<br>Repeats the Roman's sad _paulisper_.<br>Come back! come back! we've need of you<br>To pay you for your word of warning;<br>We'll bathe your wings in brighter dew<br>Than ever wet the lids of morning!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Behold this cup; its mystic wine<br>No alien's lip has ever tasted;<br>The blood of friendship's clinging vine,<br>Still flowing, flowing, yet unwasted<br>Old Time forgot his running sand<br>And laid his hour-glass down to fill it,<br>And Death himself with gentle hand<br>Has touched the chalice, not to spill it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Each bubble rounding at the brim<br>Is rainbowed with its magic story;<br>The shining days with age grown dim<br>Are dressed again in robes of glory;<br>In all its freshness spring returns<br>With song of birds and blossoms tender;<br>Once more the torch of passion burns,<br>And youth is here in all its splendor!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hope swings her anchor like a toy,<br>Love laughs and shows the silver arrow<br>We knew so well as man and boy,--<br>The shaft that stings through bone and marrow;<br>Again our kindling pulses beat,<br>With tangled curls our fingers dally,<br>And bygone beauties smile as sweet<br>As fresh-blown lilies of the valley.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O blessed hour! we may forget<br>Its wreaths, its rhymes, its songs, its laughter,<br>But not the loving eyes we met,<br>Whose light shall gild the dim hereafter.<br>How every heart to each grows warm!<br>Is one in sunshine's ray? We share it.<br>Is one in sorrow's blinding storm?<br>A look, a word, shall help him bear it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The Boys' we were, 'The Boys' we 'll be<br>As long as three, as two, are creeping;<br>Then here 's to him--ah! which is he?--<br>Who lives till all the rest are sleeping;<br>A life with tranquil comfort blest,<br>The young man's health, the rich man's plenty,<br>All earth can give that earth has best,<br>And heaven at fourscore years and twenty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</a><div class=q>
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Et decet, obducta solvatur fonte senectus.'

THE muse of boyhood's fervid hour
Grows tame as skies get chill and hazy;
Where once she sought a passion-flower,
She only hopes to find a daisy.
Well, who the changing world bewail..."></div>
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