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Poem	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.
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