ODE OF ANACREON. TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK.
Reading edition
The women tell me, every day, That all my bloom has passed away. “Behold!” the lively lasses cry, “Behold this mirror with a sigh! Old wintry Time has shed his snows, And bald and bare your forehead shows.” I will not either think or care Whether old Time has thinned my hair; But this I know and this I feel, As years advancing on me steal, And ever bring the end more near, The joys of life become more dear; And had I but one hour to live, That hour to cheerfulness I’d give.
