Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 41

When Spring adorns the dewy scene,
How sweet to walk the velvet green,
And hear the west wind’s gentle sighs,
As o’er the scented mead it flies!
How sweet to mark the pouting vine,
Ready to burst in tears of wine;
And with some maid, who breathes but love,
To walk, at noontide, through the grove,
Or sit in some cool green recess —
Oh, it not this true happiness?

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 3
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 45
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 10. Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 27
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 20

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