Anacreontic

In the veins of the calix foams and glows The blood of the mantling vine, But oh! in the bowl of Youth there glows A Lesbian, more divine! Bright, bright, As the liquid light, Its waves through thine eyelids shine! Fill up, fill up, to the sparkling brim, The juice of the young Lyaeus; The grape is the key that we owe to him From the gaol of the world to free us. Drink, drink! What need to shrink, When the lambs alone can see us? Drink, drink, as I quaff from thine eyes The wine of a softer tree; Give the smiles to the god of the grape-thy sighs, Beloved one, give to me. Turn, turn, My glances burn, And thirst for a look from thee!