Classic Poem

Merry comrades, to blithe Bacchus
Swell the dithyrambic chorus;
He first trained the wanton tendrils
Of the vine—a boon to mortals.
He will grant us manumission
From the gyves of Care the tyrant;
He will pour us dreams of rapture,
And give radiant wings to fancy.
There is music in the clinking
Of the glass to glass uplifted—
Music to symposiasts sweeter
Than the grandest strains of masters.
Dull ascetics may be moping
And contemn joys temulentive,
We enjoy life as it fleeteth,
Carpe diem is our motto.

We will not, methinks, come sooner
To Persephone's dark chamber,
And old Charon's Stygian ferry,
That with wine our clay we moisten,
And are jovial in loco .
Then with free mirth and light laughter
Let us drain the sparkling beaker;
And may wit and friendship flourish.