From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 30
’Twas in a mocking dream of night — I fancied I had wings as light As a young bird’s, and flew as fleet; While Love, around whose beauteous feet, I knew not why, hung chains of lead, Pursued me, as I trembling fled; And, strange to say, as swift as thought, Spite of my pinions, I was caught! What does the wanton Fancy mean By such a strange illusive scene? I fear she whispers to my breast, That you, sweet maid, have stolen its rest; That though my fancy, for a while, Hath hung on many a woman’s smile, I soon dissolved each passing vow, And ne’er was caught by love till now!
Thomas Moore’s other poems:
