Wine, No. 21

Yonder choir of virgins see Through the spring advancing, Where the sun's warmth, fair and free, From the green leaves glancing, Weaves a lattice of light gloom And soft sunbeams o'er us, 'Neath the linden-trees in bloom, For the Cyprian chorus.

In this vale where blossoms blow, Blooming, summer-scented, 'Mid the lilies row by row, Spreads a field flower-painted. Here the blackbirds through the dale Each to each are singing, And the jocund nightingale Her fresh voice is flinging.

See the maidens crowned with rose Sauntering through the grasses! Who could tell the mirth of those Laughing, singing lasses? Or with what a winning grace They their charms discover, Charms of form and blushing face, To the gazing lover?

Down the flowery greenwood glade As I chanced to wander, From bright eyes a serving-maid Shot Love's arrows yonder; I for her, 'mid all the crew Of the girls of Venus, Wait and yearn until I view Love spring up between us.