Drinking
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THE thirsty earth soaks up the rain, | |
And drinks and gapes for drink again ; | |
The plants suck in the earth, and are | |
With constant drinking fresh and fair ; | |
The sea itself (which one would think | 5 |
Should have but little need of drink) | |
Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, | |
So fill'd that they o'erflow the cup. | |
The busy Sun (and one would guess | |
By 's drunken fiery face no less) | 10 |
Drinks up the sea, and when he 's done, | |
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun : | |
They drink and dance by their own light, | |
They drink and revel all the night : | |
Nothing in Nature 's sober found, | 15 |
But an eternal health goes round. | |
Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high, | |
Fill all the glasses there—for why | |
Should every creature drink but I ? | |
Why, man of morals, tell me why ?
| 20 |
The Epicure
|
UNDERNEATH this myrtle shade, | |
On flowerly beds supinely laid, | |
With odorous oils my head o'erflowing, | |
And around it roses growing, | |
What should I do but drink away | 5 |
The heat and troubles of the day ? | |
In this more than kingly state | |
Love himself on me shall wait. | |
Fill to me, Love ! nay, fill it up ! | |
And mingled cast into the cup | 10 |
Wit and mirth and noble fires, | |
Vigorous health and gay desires. | |
The wheel of life no less will stay | |
In a smooth than rugged way : | |
Since it equally doth flee, | 15 |
Let the motion pleasant be. | |
Why do we precious ointments shower ?— | |
Nobler wines why do we pour ?— | |
Beauteous flowers why do we spread | |
Upon the monuments of the dead ? | 20 |
Nothing they but dust can show, | |
Or bones that hasten to be so. | |
Crown me with roses while I live, | |
Now your wines and ointments give : | |
After death I nothing crave, | 25 |
Let me alive my pleasures have : | |
All are Stoics in the grave.
| |
Swallow
|
FOOLISH prater, what dost thou | |
So early at my window do ? | |
Cruel bird, thou'st ta'en away | |
A dream out of my arms to-day ; | |
A dream that ne'er must equall'd be | 5 |
By all that waking eyes may see. | |
Thou this damage to repair | |
Nothing half so sweet and fair, | |
Nothing half so good, canst bring, | |
Tho' men say thou bring'st the Spring. | 10 |