Classic Poem

When I see a youthful train
Mingling in a festive ring,
I myself seem young again.

Then unto the dance I fly;
Flowers, O my Cybeba, bring;
Wreathe my temples airily.

Cursed age be far away,
I will wanton with the young,
And as merry be as they.

Bring the wine-vat's sparkling treasure,
Mellow wine will loose my tongue
While I tread the maze of pleasure.

Witness now an old man's might,
First the revellers among
Singing, drinking all the night.