Cliff Klingenhagen had me in to dine With him one day; and after soup and meat, And all the other things there were to eat, Cliff took two glasses and filled one with wine And one with wormwood. Then, without a sign For me to choose at all, he took the draught Of bitterness himself, and lightly quaffed It off, and said the other one was mine. And when I asked him what the deuce he meant By doing that, he only looked at me And grinned, and said it was a way of his. And though I know the fellow, I have spent Long time a-wondering when I shall be As happy as Cliff Klingenhagen is. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GREAT BELL ROLAND; SUGGESTED BY PRESIDENT'S CALL VOLUNTEERS by THEODORE TILTON THE CITY DEAD-HOUSE by WALT WHITMAN THE LAMP OF HERO by LOUISE VICTORINE ACKERMANN A SUMMER SUMMARY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A BIT OF MULL by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER MY LOYAL LOVE by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS ON THE DEATH OF SMET-SMET, THE HIPPOTAMUS-GODDESS by RUPERT BROOKE |