O STRANGER! if Anacreon's shell Has ever taught thy heart to swell With passion's throb or pleasure's sigh, In pity turn, as wandering nigh, And drop thy goblet's richest tear In exquisite libation here! So shall my sleeping ashes thrill With visions of enjoyment still. I cannot even in death resign The festal joys that once were mine, When Harmony pursued my ways, And Bacchus wanton'd to my lays. Oh! if delight could charm no more, If all the goblet's bliss were o'er, When fate had once our doom decreed, Then dying would be death indeed! Nor could I think, unblest by wine, Divinity itself divine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHITE NOCTURNE by CONRAD AIKEN ALMANACH DU PRINTEMPS VIVAROIS by HAYDEN CARRUTH OUR CAMP; IN THE AUTUMN WOODS by ROBERT FROST THEY HAVEN'T HEARD THE WEST IS OVER by JAMES GALVIN CONRAD AT TWILIGHT by JOHN CROWE RANSOM |