Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A TOAST, by A. K. LANE



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A TOAST, by                    
First Line: What though the storm-king growls in a rage
Last Line: "sans hope, sans joy!"" he singeth."
Subject(s): Drinks & Drinking; Wine


WHAT though the storm-king growls in rage,
And the daylight fast is dimming;
We'll add to the score on Mem'ry's page,
While the butt with cheer is brimming.

And Love shall be the tapster gay,
To draw at nod or winking;
And whether the clouds be gold or gray,
Here's to the cup and its clinking!

Those moist lips, touched in single bliss,
More constant are than lovers';
Their foamy depth holds many a kiss,
And many a sigh it smothers.

Then ho for the blood of youth, say I,
And the mad, glad hopes it bringeth;
For the palsied step of Age draws nigh, --
"Sans hope, sans joy!" he singeth.





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