COME, while with wine the goblets flow, For wine they say has power to bless; And flowers too -- not roses, no! Bring poppies, bring forgetfulness! A Lethe for departed bliss, And each too well remember'd scene; Earth has no sweeter draught than this, Which drowns the thought of what has been. Here's to the heart's cold iciness, Which cannot smile, but will not sigh, If wine can bring a chill like this, Come, fill for me the goblet high. Come, and the cold, the false, the dead, Shall never cross our revelry; We'll kiss the wine-cup sparkling red, And snap the chain of memory. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12. A RENUNCIATION by THOMAS CAMPION ALICE IN WONDERLAND: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON TO YOUTH by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR EPITAPH FOR ONE WHO WOULD NOT BE BURIED IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALEXANDER POPE HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 6 by EZRA POUND FLORENTINE INGRATITUDE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE VERMONT 'HIRED MAN' by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |