Come, fill your glasses brimming up And raise them overhead! I'll pledge a toast before I sup, So hasten with the foaming cup,— It's nearly time for bed! I sing not of the ruby wine,— My years do not allow; Though grown-ups praise the fruitful vine, Clink glasses to this toast of mine,— Long live the Mooley Cow! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW TO BE A POET (TO REMIND MYSELF) by WENDELL BERRY COMING DOWN TO THE DESERT AT LORDBURG, N.M. by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LEAVES OF THE TREE HIDE THE SUN by DAVID IGNATOW DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HEGIRA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMEDAY BOOK: MIRIAM FAY'S LETTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |