ANACREONTIC 

 I would not be A voyager on the windy seas: More sweet to me This bank where crickets chirp, and bees Buzz drowsy sunshine minstrelsies. 

I would not be

More sweet to me

 I would not bide On lonely heights where shepherds dwell. At twilight tide The sounds that from the valley swell, Soft breathing lute and herdsman's bell, Are sweeter far Than music of cold mountain rills. The evening star Wakes love and song below, but chills With mist and breeze the gloomy hills. 

I would not bide

At twilight tide

Are sweeter far

The evening star

 I would not woo Some storm-browed Juno, queenly fair. Soft eyes of blue And sudden blushes unaware Do net my heart in silken snare. 

I would not woo

Soft eyes of blue

 I do not love The eyrie, but low woodland nest Of cushat dove: Not wind, but calm; not toil, but rest And sleep in grassy meadow's breast. 

I do not love

Of cushat dove:

 

 

   BUMBLE BEE 

 As I lay yonder in tall grass A drunken bumble-bee went past Delirious with honey toddy. The golden sash about his body Could scarce keep in his swollen belly Distent with honey-suckle jelly. Rose liquor and the sweet pea wine Had filled his soul with song divine; Deep had he drunk the warm night through: His hairy thighs were wet with dew. Full many an antic he had played While the world went round through sleep and shade. Oft had he lit with thirsty lip Some 

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