Do not be distant with me, do not be Angry to hear I drank deep of your wine, But treat a laughing matter laughingly; For 'tis the poet's failing, to incline, By nature and by art, to jollity. Always I loved to see -- sight all too rare! A rich, red, tide lip at a flagon's brim; To sit, half fool and half philosopher; To chat with every kind of her and him; And to shrug at lore of money-gatherer. Often I trudge the mud by hedge and wall; And often there's no money in my purse! Nor malice in my heart ever at all! And of my songs no person is the worse, But I myself, who give my all to all. Though busybody told, say -- what of it! Say, kindliest man of kindest men that live, -- The poet only takes his sup and bit! And say -- It is no great return to give For his unstinted gift of verse and wit! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE THREE KINGS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 48 by OMAR KHAYYAM IN PROGRESS by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ARE THE CHILDREN AT HOME? by MARGARET ELIZABETH MUNSON SANGSTER SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 85 by BLISS CARMAN QUATRAIN: ECHO by MADISON JULIUS CAWEIN |