Ode 21: Summer

by Judson France Davidson
Give me, maids, deep draughts of wine
For exhausted with the heat
I am gasping; of flowers sweet
Round my temples fresh wreaths twine.

For the garlands I wear now.
Scorched are by my burning brow.
But Love's fires, O heart, in you
How, ye gods, can I subdue?
Translation: 
Language: 
English
Author of original: 
Poets of The Anacreontea
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