|42.||The Women Tell Me Every Day||9/19/2012|
|43.||They Tell How Atys, Wild With Love||9/19/2012|
|44.||Thou, Whose Soft And Rosy Hues||9/19/2012|
|47.||Vulcan! Hear Your Glorious Task||9/19/2012|
|48.||Wine And Song||9/19/2012|
|49.||Wine The Healer||9/19/2012|
|50.||Youth And Age||9/19/2012|
Here Recline You, Gentle Maid
Here recline you, gentle maid,
Sweet is this imbowering shade;
Sweet the young, the modest trees,
Ruffled by the kissing breeze;
Sweet the little founts that weep,
Lulling bland the mind to sleep;
Hark! they whisper as they roll,
Calm persuasion to the soul;
Tell me, tell me, is not this
All a stilly scene of bliss?
Who, my girl, would pass it by?
Surely neither you nor I!
If thou dost the number know
Of the leaves on every bough,
If thou can'st the reckoning keep
Of the sands within the deep;
Thee of all men will I take,
And my Love's accomptant make.
Of Athenians first a score
Set me down; then fifteen more;
Add a regiment to these