 | Poems |  |
59
ANACREONTIC.
Bring hither, boy, yon Tuscan wine,
And round our brows we'll roses twine;
Roses we have pluck'd to day,
And we will drink till they decay.
And round our brows we'll roses twine;
Roses we have pluck'd to day,
And we will drink till they decay.
Yes, fill the vase, boy, fill it high,
For see the light forsakes the sky:
To ocean hastes the fainting beam,
And we must seek it in the stream.
For see the light forsakes the sky:
To ocean hastes the fainting beam,
And we must seek it in the stream.
Then let us, with the goblet's light,
Illumine all the hours of night;
Drown every thought of care and pain,
And drink till daylight dawns again!
Illumine all the hours of night;
Drown every thought of care and pain,
And drink till daylight dawns again!
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