WHEN fumes of Wine ascend into my brain, Care sleeps, and I the bustling world disdain, Nor all the wealth of Croesus I esteem, I sing of mirth, for Jollity's my theme. With garlands, I my ruby temples crown, Keeping rebellious thoughts of business down; In broils, and wars, while others take delight, I with choice friends indulge my appetite. Then fetch more bottles, Boy, and charge us round, We'll fall to Bacchus, victims on the ground; Nor value what dull moralists have said, I'm sure 'tis better to be drunk, than dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF THE HALIBUT ON WHICH I DINED by WILLIAM COWPER ALASTOR; OR, THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE TRANCE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE OLD FERRYMAN by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM EN TOUR; A SONG SEQUENCE: 1. THE GARGOYLE by ALBERTA BANCROFT WERE IT ONLY NOW by A. W. BELL TO AN OLD SWEETHEART by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE 'NAME UNKNOWN' (IN IMITATION OF KLOPSTOCK) by THOMAS CAMPBELL |