LET the ghosts in black Erebus roar, Whilst the moon does dance over the hills And billows be tumbling to shore, Whilst to Bacchus a brimmer each fills. Come, bowl away, Brook no delay, But fairly play: He drinks a couple that spills. 'Twill drive away fancies and fears; And make us grow lusty and strong, 'Tis nectar, 'tis nectar that cheers, And makes life to spin out so long. Come, bowl away, Brook no delay, But fairly play: He that drinks not, to Nature does wrong. If they're off, let's fill 'em again; And merrily let them go round; He's a Slave that presumes to complain, For no pleasure like drinking is found. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ALTAR by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE TRUTH by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE BOSTON EVENING TRANSCRIPT by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT OLD MOTHERS by CHARLES SARSFIELD ROSS MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 10 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI REBECCA'S HYMN, FR. IVANHOE by WALTER SCOTT |