Classic Poem

We will scatter the rose of the Loves on the wine, we will bind the lovely-petalled rose on our brows and laugh and drink gaily.
Rose, O loveliest flower, rose, glory of the Spring, rose, beloved of the gods, rose, with whom Love garlands the clear hair of those who dance with the Graces — crown me! I will sing the shrines of Dionysus and dance beside a deep-breasted girl, garlanded with little roses.