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Poem by Thomas Moore From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 52 A WAY, away, ye men of rules, What have I do with schools? They 'd make me learn, they 'd make me think, But would they make me love and drink? Teach me this, and let me swim My soul upon the goblet's brim; Teach me this, and let me twine Some fond, responsive heart to mine, For, age begins to blanch my brow, I've time for naught but pleasure now. Fly, and cool my goblet's glow At yonder fountain's gelid flow; I'll quaff, my boy, and calmly sink This soul to slumber as I drink. Soon, too soon, my Jocund slave, You 'll deck your master's grassy grave; And there's an end — for ah, you know They drink but little wine below! Thomas Moore Thomas Moore's other poems:
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