Thomas Moore

May 28, 1780 - Feb 26, 1852

Odes Of Anacreaon:

I care not for the idle state...One day the Muses twined the hands...Observe when mother earth is dry...To all that breathe the airs of heaven...Yes -- loving is a painful thrill...If hoarded gold possess'd a power...Yes, be the glorious revel mine...Within this goblet rich and deep...'Tis true, my fading years decline...When my thirsty soul I steep...Away, away, you men of rules...And whose immortal hand could shed...Golden hues of youth are fled...Fill me, boy, as deep a draught...Rich in bliss, I proudly scorn...Cupid, whose lamp has lent the ray...Let me resign a wretched breath...I know thou lovest a brimming measure...I fear that love disturbs my rest...From dread Leucadia's frowning steep...Mix me, child, a cup divine...

Odes Of Anacreon: Mix me, child, a cup divine...

Mix me, child, a cup divine...

by Thomas Moore

Mix me, child, a cup divine,
Crystal water, ruby wine;
Weave the frontlet, richly flushing,
O'er my wintry temples blushing.
Mix the brimmer--Love and I
Shall no more the gauntlet try.
Here -- upon this holy bowl,
I surrender all my soul!

Source:

The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.
Copyright undated, very old
The Walter Scott Publishing Co. Ltd.

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