Classic Poem

Rosy wine we're freely quaffing,
With rose-garlands temple-crowned;
Merrily ring our voices laughing
As we pass the bowl around.
A trim-ankled maid is shaking
(With eyes lit with coy desire)
A wreathèd thyrsus, pirouettes making
To the music of a lyre.
Lo, a youth with downy tresses
Dulcet praise of pleasure sings,
And with skilful touch caresses
The lute's trembling, murmuring strings.
Eros golden-haired is present;
Lovely Venus, beauty's queen,
Bacchus, loved of king and peasant,
Grace the revel's pleasant scene.
Singing many a jovial strain,
We old men seem young again.