Odes Of Anacreon: Away, away, you men of rules...
Away, away, you men of rules...
by Thomas Moore
Away, away, you men of rules,
What have I do with schools?
They'd make me learn, they'd make me think,
But would they make me love and drink?
Teach me this, and let me swim
My soul upon the goblet's brim;
Age begins to blanch my brow,
I've time for nought but pleasure now.
Fly and cool my goblet's glow
At yonder fountain's gelid flow;
I'll quaff, my boy, and calmly sink
This soul to slumber as I drink!
Soon, too soon, my jocund slave,
You'll deck your master's grassy grave;
And there's an end -- for ah! you know
They drink but little wine below!
Source:The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.
Copyright undated, very old
The Walter Scott Publishing Co. Ltd.