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{
    "url": "https://anthologiagraeca.org/api/texts/14966/?format=api",
    "language": {
        "code": "eng",
        "iso_name": "English",
        "url": "https://anthologiagraeca.org/api/languages/eng/?format=api"
    },
    "edition": null,
    "unique_id": 100005250,
    "created_at": "2024-09-06T22:41:34.006734Z",
    "updated_at": "2024-09-06T22:41:34.036360Z",
    "validation": 0,
    "status": 1,
    "text": "T'other day as I was twining\r\nRoses, for a crown to dine in,\r\nWhat, of all things, 'midst the heap,\r\nShould I light on, fast asleep,\r\nBut the little desperate elf,\r\nThe tiny traitor, Love himself!\r\nBy the wings I pinch'd him up\r\nLike a bee, and in a cup\r\nOf my wine I plunged and sank him;\r\nThen what d'ye think I did?—I drank him.\r\nFaith, I thought him dead. Not he!\r\nThere he lives with tenfold glee;\r\nAnd now this moment with his wings\r\nI feel him tickling my heart-strings.\r\n\r\n— Hunt, Leigh (1784–1859), The New Monthly Magazine (September 1836)",
    "comments": [],
    "alignments": [],
    "passages": [
        "https://anthologiagraeca.org/api/passages/urn:cts:greekLit:tlg7000.tlg001.ag:16.388/?format=api"
    ]
}