Might paint a swallow; but how many things
In Love are different from a bird! Not light
To him who bears the weight, nor quick in flight,
Unmoved the imp upon his shoulders sits.
How can a thing have wings that never flits?
For sober folk three bowls alone I mix,
For health, cheer, sleep; the order thus I fix.
The first they toss off; that’s for stomach’s sake.
The next, for love and pleasure, all may take.
The third, the few who are with wisdom blessed;