Anacreontic. "The Wisest Men Are Fools In Wine."

The wisest men are fools in wine, Experience makes us think: Its magic spells are so divine, We reason—yet we drink! How short's the longest life of man, How soon its brightest laurels fade— Then, as our life is but a span, Let all its hours be joyous made. Wine o'er the ardent restless mind Entwines its poppy chain; A solace, then, the wretched find. In fictions of the brain. Oh! as the charmed glass we sip, We conquer care and pain: It woos like woman's dewy lip, To kiss—and come again!