Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 47
ODE XLVII.—YOUNG OLD AGE.
I love the cheerful, blithesome sage,
Whose temper ne'er betrays his age.
I love the youth that dances well,
To music of the sounding shell.
But when an aged youth like me
Can join the dance with sportive glee,
Though age in hoary locks appears,
His heart is young, despite his years.