Odes Of Anacreon - Ode LXXV.

A poem by Thomas Moore

Spirit of Love, whose locks unrolled,
Stream on the breeze like floating gold;
Come, within a fragrant cloud
Blushing with light, thy votary shroud;
And, on those wings that sparkling play,
Waft, oh, waft me hence away!
Love! my soul is full of thee,
Alive to all thy luxury.
But she, the nymph for whom I glow
The lovely Lesbian mocks my woe;
Smiles at the chill and hoary hues
That time upon my forehead strews.
Alas! I fear she keeps her charms,
In store for younger, happier arms!

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Odes Of Anacreon - Ode LXXV.' by Thomas Moore

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy