Wreathe the bowl by Thomas Moore.

Part 2 of 3.

’T was

nectar fed
Of old, ’t is said,
Their Junos, Joves, Apollos;
And man may brew
His nectar too;
The rich receipt ’s as follows:—
Take wine like this;
Let looks of bliss
Around it well be blended;
Then bring wit’s beam
To warm the stream,
And there ’s your nectar, splendid!
So wreathe the bowl
With flowers of soul,
The brightest wit can find us;
We ’ll take a flight
Towards heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us!