The Poetry Corner

Odes Of Anacreon - Ode LXV.

By Thomas Moore

[1] Like some wanton filly sporting, Maid Of Thrace, thou flyest my courting. Wanton filly! tell me why Thou trip'st away, with scornful eye, And seem'st to think my doating heart Is novice in the bridling art? Believe me, girl, it is not so; Thou'lt find this skilful hand can throw The reins around that tender form, However wild, however warm. Yes--trust me I can tame thy force, And turn and wind thee in the course. Though, wasting now thy careless hours, Thou sport amid the herbs and flowers, Soon shalt thou feel the rein's control, And tremble at the wished-for goal!