BACCHUS, burnisher of souls, Accept a large libation; Let generous bumpers, flowing bowls Perfect us in potation. Drain the glass, the goblet drain, Drown awhile each sorrow; Tonight begone all care and pain And thinking of tomorrow. Venus, frown not, while we pour Our wine in copious measure, Each crimson drop to thee is more Than Mexic's miny treasure. Drain the glass &c. The monk, who mopes in cloister'd cell, May write, and rave, and bellow; At night, with rosy, romping Nell, He's quite another fellow. Drain the glass &c. The sparkling thought, the joke, the glee, Shall all our features lighten; So for my song, the burden be, Let's brighten, lads, let's brighten! Drain the glass, the goblet drain, Drown awhile each sorrow; Tonight begone all care and pain And thinking of tomorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENGLAND'S DEAD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS AVE ATQUE VALE; IN MEMORY OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE CASSANDRA SOUTHWICK; 1658 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER TO A BUTTERFLY (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PARLIAMENT OF WOMEN: PRAXAGORA REHEARSES by ARISTOPHANES |