Classic Poem

Alas! alas! I see each day
Steals me from myself away;
And ev'ry step of life I tread,
I speed to mingle with the dead.
How many years are past, my friends,
I know, and there my knowledge ends:
How many years are still in store,
I neither can, nor would explore.
Then, since the hours incessant fly,
They all shall find me crown'd with joy.
To those, my cares I here bequeath,
Who meanly die for fear of death,
And daily with assiduous strife
Contrive to live, accurs'd with life.
Then, Care, begone! I'd dance and play;
Hence, with thy serious face away!
I'll laugh, and whilst gay wine inflames,
I'll court the laughter-loving dames,
And study to resign my breath
In ecstasy, and smile in death.