Fill a glass with golden wine, And the while your lips are wet Set their perfume unto mine, And forget, Every kiss we take and give Leaves us less of life to live. Yet again! Your whim and mine In a happy while have met. All your sweets to me resign, Nor regret That we press with every breath, Sighed or singing, nearer death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLAINT OF THE DISGUSTED BRITON IN THE STATES by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH: A DREAM OF PONCE DE LEON by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH THE INQUEST by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |