Poem by Thomas Moore

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 67

Rich in bliss, I proudly scorn
The wealth of Amalthea's horn;
Nor should I ask to call the throne
Of the Tartessian prince my own;
To totter through his train of years,
The victim of declining fears,
One little hour of joy to me
Is worth a dull eternity!

1. To-Day, Dearest! Is Ours
2. Oft, When the Watching Stars Grow Pale
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 24
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 60
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 69

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