Nay, prithee dear, draw nigher, Yet closer, nigher yet; Here is a double fire, A dry one and a wet: True lasting heavenly fuel Puts out the vestal jewel, When once we twining marry Mad love with wild canary. Off with that crowned Venice, Till all the house doth flame; We 'll quench it straight in Rhenish, Or what we must not name: Milk lightning still assuageth, So when our fury rageth, As th' only means to cross it, We 'll drown it in Love's posset. Love never was well-willer Unto my nag or me, Ne'er watered us i' th' cellar, But the cheap buttery: At th' head of his own barrels, Where broached are all his quarrels, Should a true noble master Still make his guest his taster. See all the world how 't staggers, More ugly drunk than we, As if far gone in daggers And blood it seemed to be: We drink our glass of roses, Which nought but sweets discloses, Then, in our loyal chamber, Refresh us with love's amber. Now tell me, thou fair cripple, That dumb canst scarcely see Th' almightiness of tipple, And th' odds 'twixt thee and thee: What of Elysium's missing? Still drinking and still kissing, Adoring plump October, Lord! what is man and sober? Now is there such a trifle As Honour, the fool's giant? What is there left to rifle, When wine makes all parts pliant? Let others glory follow, In their false riches wallow, And with their grief be merry: Leave me but love and sherry. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RAILROAD RHYME by JOHN GODFREY SAXE ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON [APRIL 6, 1862] by KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD THE SNAIL by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 36. ASH-SHAKIR by EDWIN ARNOLD WILD ROSES by RHODA S. BARCLAY ROSALIND'S SCROLL by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING EPITAPH ON MY FATHER by ROBERT BURNS |