Classic Poem

Come, the dance, the dance!
Night is nigh us:
How the shades advance!
Soon joy will fly us:
Be happy while we may;
Dull cares, away, away!
Be only song and play,
As time speeds by us.

Our vintage all is in;
Our vats o'erflowing;—
Now wake the merry din,
Eyes, cheeks, all glowing.
We owe the generous vine
A pledge of best old wine,
And clustering ivy's twine,
And flowers new blowing.

Pluck, pluck the autumn flowers,
And deftly twine them;—
Maidens, in lonely hours,
May then divine them:
One, with its eye of blue,
Shall tell the heart is true;
Another, blushing new,
Softly incline them.

Then wheel the dance, the dance,
Around the fountain;—
The satyrs hear, and prance
On ivied mountain;
The fauns come stealing nigh,
And roll the roguish eye,
Quick mischief in it:—
Back to your craggy wood!
The maiden's heart is good;
Ye cannot win it.