TAKE from dead Rome The home Of minstrelsy. Maids still are fair, I swear, As Lalage. Comrades, let us ever sing, While the time disposes, And our clinking glasses ring, Love and wine and roses. I. Red the cherry, red the rose, Red the ruby wine; Redder come the maiden's lips Laughing up to mine. II. As the straying sunbeams dance In the shaded brook, Dance the sparkles in her eyes; Arch and coy her look. III. White the lily, white the dove, White the marble bright; Whiter still her curving throat, Glist'ning in the light. IV. She has cheeks enclareted, Softest ringlets brown. Come, each fill a brimming glass, To her drink it down. While our clinking glasses ring, And the time disposes, Comrades, let us ever sing Love and wine and roses. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TEMPEST: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN A WIFE IN LONDON by THOMAS HARDY A NET TO SNARE THE MOONLIGHT by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY WALT WHITMAN by HARRISON SMITH MORRIS THE FUNERAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER CELEBRATION ODE by LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN AN EMISSARY TO HEAVEN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET WRITTEN ON WHITSUN-MONDAY, 1795 by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |