The whining lover that doth place His fancy on a painted face, And wastes his substance in the chase, Would ne'er in melancholy pine, Had he affections so divine, As once to fall in love with wine ... Come, fill my cup until it swim With foam that overlooks the brim. Who drinks the deepest? @3Here's to him@1! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TO A WEALTHY MAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS CONSCIENCE AND REMORSE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ANSWER TO MASTER WITHER'S SONG, 'SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR?' by BEN JONSON THE LAST CHANTEY by RUDYARD KIPLING SONNET: 107 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE VANITAS VANITATUM, FR. THE DEVIL'S CASE LAW by JOHN WEBSTER THE RIVER DUDDON: SONNET 34. AFTER-THOUGHT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |