[475] 38


WHEN the garden’s sweet with rose-bloom,

Sweet with song of the nightingale,

After night-fall let the riot

Of feast and wassail and wine prevail.

Through the day the wine is idle,

The taverns slumber; when night descends

Mirth instals the reign of pleasure,

The sadness of day with the daylight ends.

Laughter sways the crowd of revellers,

Floods of merriment rise and fall,

Theirs the wine and theirs be the roses,

Mine the thorns and the draught of gall.

NOTE.—The unmodified form of this metre will be found in example 3.