That haughty tyranny of thine,
That neck unbending, Love shall take,
I vow, and victim of thee make
In harsh subjection to repine.
Live out thy vain and care-free days,
Love's bitter ways
Shall charge the measure of my score,
When of thy sorrow none shall more
Take any notice whoso pays.

When through the golden locks that crown
Thy brows the scattered snows shall run,
And thy twin daystars have begun
To dim their lights of old renown;
When the first wrinkle line shall sear
Thy visage clear,

Those charming eyes within whose starry sphere
Love whilom sat, and smiled the hours away,—
Those braids of light, that shamed the beams of day,—
That hand benignant, and that heart sincere,—
Those virgin cheeks, which did so late appear
Like snow-banks scattered with the blooms of May,
Turned to a little cold and worthless clay,
Are gone, forever gone, and perished here,

But not unbathed by Memory's warmest tear!
Death thou hast torn, in one unpitying hour,
That fragrant plant, to which, while scarce a flower,

In the mid hours of the night when the Bear had turned around the hand of Bootes, and all the race of those who have speech lay silent, crafty Love beat on the fastenings of my door. I called out: " Who knocks at my door? Who are you who break my dreams? "
And Love said: " Open! It is a child, do not be afraid. I am drenched with wandering in the moonless night. "

I thought in a dream that Love with wings upon his shoulders and lead about his lovely feet, sped by and lighted down.
What does this mean? I think it means that after wandering in Love with many I am now taken from all others and bound hand and foot in this.

It is bitter not to be kissed, it is bitter to be kissed; but bitterer than all things is to lose one's love.
Love now has no child; O cunning one, old custom is disdained—they care only for money.
May he perish who first loved money! Through him there are no brothers, through him no fathers; enemies, murders, because of him.
And this is the worst—through him we that are lovers are destroyed.

Sweet, heard you not fames latest breath rehearse
How I left hewing blocks to hack at verse,
Now growne the master Log, while others be
But shavings, and the chips of Poetry.
And thus I saw Deale-boards of beauty forth,
To make my Love a warehouse of her worth.
Her leggs are heart of Oake, and columnes stand
To beare the amorous bulke; then Muse command
That Beech be work'd for thighs unto those leggs,
Turn'd round and carv'd, and joynted fast with peggs.
Contrive her belly round, a dining roome,
When Love and Beauty will a feasting come.

If all the leaves of the trees could be numbered, if the sands of the whole great sea could be counted, I could make you the sole computer of my loves.
Take first from Athens twenty loves and then fifteen more. From Corinth take strings of mistresses, for this is Achaia where the women are beautiful.
Give me two thousand loves from the Lesbians to the Ionians, Carians and Rhodians.
" Why do you talk such folly! "
I have not yet counted the Syrians, not yet my mistresses at Canopus nor all those at Crete where Love riots in the cities.

I will, I will kiss.
Love urges me to kiss. And since this is not my desire I was unwilling to be urged.
Love shook his straight bow and gold quiver; he called me to the fight.
I struggled with Love, throwing the breast-plate upon my shoulders, my spear and ox-hide shield, like Achilles.
He struck and I fled. And as he had no shafts he grew angry, hurled himself at me in a glance.
He pierced to my heart and overwhelmed me. In vain I have a shield; for, since he is within me, is he not out of shot?

A young man offered a waxen Love; and I, who was standing near, said: " How much will you take for your work of art? "
And he answered in Doric: " Take it for what you like to give, for it will make you mad with desire. I am not a wax-moulder, but I should not like to live with all-powerful Love. "
" Give him to me, then, " said I, " give me, for a drachma, this lovely bedfellow. "
Love! burn me at once with desire — if not I will melt you in the fire.

The women say: " You are old, Anacreon; take your mirror and look in it — you have no hair, the front of your head is bald. "
And I do not know whether I have hair or not, but this I do know: that an old man may well take all delicate pleasures with girls for he draws near to the ultimate Fate.