ODE OF ANACREON.TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK.Thewomen 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 careWhether 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.
ODE OF ANACREON.TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK.
Thewomen 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 careWhether 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.
Thewomen 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 careWhether 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.
Thewomen 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 careWhether 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.
Thewomen 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.