An Ode in the Manner of Anacreon
As late in wreaths gay flowers I bound,
Beneath some roses Love I found,
And by his little frolic pinion
As quick as thought I seiz'd the minion,
Then in my cup the prisoner threw,
And drank him in its sparkling dew:
And sure I feel my angry guest
Fluttering his wings within my breast!
This work published before January 1, 1923 is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.