Classic Poem

À LA ANDREW LANG

I do not love this pomp and pride
Extolled by Persians magnified
With self-esteem; and to my taste
The linden chaplets interlaced
With roses should be cast aside.
Seek not the place where these abide;
Those perfumed robes and wreaths applied
With brilliant gauds and gems misplaced,
I do not love.
But bring the jars; beneath the wide,
Green mantle of these boughs I'll hide.
Come, bind my brow with myrtle chaste
And bring—oh, anything—but haste!
For there's no wine I ever tried
I do not love.