Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A TOAST, by A. K. LANE 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CUP OF TREMBLINGS by JOHN HOLLANDER VINTAGE ABSENCE by JOHN HOLLANDER SENT WITH A BOTTLE OF BURGUNDY FOR A BIRTHDAY by JOHN HOLLANDER TO A CIVIL SERVANT by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG WINE by FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT THE GOOD FELLOW by ALEXANDER BROME WHEN A WOMAN LOVES A MAN by DAVID LEHMAN STALKING LEMURS by KAREN SWENSON |
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