Hans Rustad Youth’s the season made for joys, Love is then our duty; She alone who that employs, Well deserves her beauty. Let’s be gay, While we may, Beauty’s a flower despis’d in decay. Let us drink and sport to-day, Ours is not tomorrow. Love with youth flies swift away, Age is nought but sorrow. Dance and […]
Bli abonnent eller logg inn – hvis du allerede er abonnent – for å lese denne artikkelen. Pluss-artikler blir frigitt 24 timer etter publisering. Arkiverte artikler er forbeholdt abonnenter.
