On the fleeting cleats of youth,
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I ran down my dreams, lofty and uncouth.
I seized the day,
I held it tight,
when I could
and how I might.
I seized it with pen,
with pick and with paint,
also with cruelty,
with gore and with taint;
with love and with loyalty, charity free,
but also with absinthe, acid and E.
For I was the merry grasshopper,
and not one of the frugal ants.
I drank of the leggiest years,
feasted on greenest of plants.
I drank of the dreggiest dregs,
and ate up all of the roots.
I beat on the Bacchus drum,
and danced to the harpiesí flutes.
Yes, this elegant barbarian,
plundered most tastefully.
This futuristic antiquarian,
opened the present not wastefully.
This Pious Epicurean,
worshiped Artemis lustfully.
If unfaithful in love,
I loved vice most faithfully.
I painted Bohemian landscapes most lush,
I sung with a pen, then rhymed with a brush.
If Never much of an employee,
Still well I employed my time:
attended every art show,
with or without wine.
attended every Bardic lecture,
you'll find his words in mine.
chatted with museum proctors,
browsed through forgotten times.
And If I built my mind a mansion,
I let my body wander free.
If my true love was for scansion,
Still I shied not from bawdry.
For to reject the present,
is to insult the giver.
And though come Fall I'll wither,
and look back on this life mis-spent,
Never mourn for this famous liver,
without Zinfandel and refreshments.
For never was wedding merry without dower,
and my life's father need not repent.
For while I was a flower,
in the summer of youth,
I opened my petals
to show you the truth.