Dancing up the full moon Round some fair new altar Trample the soft blossoms of fine grass. Votes: 9
Raise high the roof beam, carpenters. Like Ares comes the bridegroom, taller far than a tall man. Votes: 6
Death is an ill; 'tis thus the Gods decide: / For had death been a boon, the Gods had died. Votes: 3
I took my lyre and said: come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument. Votes: 0
What cannot be said will be wept. Votes: 0