Читать книгу Yale Classics - Ancient Greek Literature - Anacreon - Страница 181

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Peace in all her sweetness hail!

No more the clarions ravish sleep;

Red rust-stains o'er the lances creep;

Gray spider-meshes gather on the mail:

Glad youths with girls the Comus-carols share;

In our feastful bowers

Song puts forth her flowers:

Peace with thy children, hail! Hail, Wealth and Order fair!