GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:3.19.21-3.19.28 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:3.19.21-3.19.28
Out on niggard-handed boys!Rain showers of roses; let old Lycus hear,Envious churl, our senseless noise,And she, our neighbour, his ill-sorted fere.You with your bright clustering hair,Your beauty, Telephus, like evening's sky,Rhoda loves, as young, as fair;I for my Glycera slowly, slowly die.