Bald heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
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That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in loves despair
To flatter beautys ignorant ear.
Theyll cough in the ink to the worlds end;
Wear out the carpet with their shoes
Earning respect; have no strange friend;
If they have sinned nobody knows.
Lord, what would they say
Should their Catullus walk that way?
