EAT thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die. Surely the earth, that's wise being very old, Needs not our help. Then loose me, love, and hold Thy sultry hair up from my face; that I May pour for thee this golden wine, brim-high, Till round the glass thy fingers glow like gold. We'll drown all hours: thy song, while hours are toll'd, Shall leap, as fountains veil the changing sky. Now kiss, and think that there are really those, My own high-bosomed beauty, who increase Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way! Through many years they toil; then on a day They die not,--for their life was death,--but cease; And round their narrow lips the mould falls close. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARIS IN SPRING by SARA TEASDALE EGERTON MANUSCRIPT: 102 by THOMAS WYATT CREDO by WILLIAM ARTHUR DUNKERLEY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 91 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SONNET: 99 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 3. THE GRAVE BY THE LAKE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |