Wreath The Bowl.

Wreath the bowl         With flowers of soul,     The brightest wit can find us;         We'll take a flight         Towards heaven to-night,     And leave dull earth behind us.         Should Love amid         The wreaths be hid,     That joy, the enchanter, brings us,         No danger fear,         While wine is near,     We'll drown him if he stings us,         Then, wreath the bowl         With flowers of soul,     The brightest wit can find us;         We'll take a flight         Towards heaven to-night,     And leave dull earth behind us.         'Twas nectar fed         Of old, 'tis said,     Their Junos, Joves, Apollos;         And man may brew         His nectar too,     The rich receipt's as follows:         Take wine like this,         Let looks of bliss     Around it well be blended,         Then bring wit's beam         To warm the stream,     And there's your nectar, splendid!         So wreath the bowl         With flowers of soul,     The brightest wit can find us;         We'll take a flight         Towards heaven to-night,     And leave dull earth behind us.         Say, why did Time         His glass sublime     Fill up with sands unsightly,         When wine, he knew,         Runs brisker through,     And sparkles far more brightly?         Oh, lend it us,         And, smiling thus,     The glass in two we'll sever,         Make pleasure glide         In double tide,     And fill both ends for ever!         Then wreath the bowl         With flowers of soul     The brightest wit can find us;         We'll take a flight         Towards heaven to-night,     And leave dull earth behind us.