|
|
Odes Of Anacreon - Ode LXXVII.
By Thomas Moore
Would that I were a tuneful lyre,
Of burnished ivory fair,
Which, in the Dionysian choir,
Some blooming boy should bear!
Would that I were a golden vase.
That some bright nymph might hold
My spotless frame, with blushing grace,
Herself as pure as gold!
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 274 times.
|
|
