 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
297
RECKLESS MIRTH.
Aye, give me wine, and let me quaff
To the light-winged loves around me;
Fill high the bowl, and we will laugh
At the rose-chains that once bound me;
Call in the guests, and I will smile,
With a brow as free from sorrow
As if my heart was glad the while,
And looked for as glad a morrow.
To the light-winged loves around me;
Fill high the bowl, and we will laugh
At the rose-chains that once bound me;
Call in the guests, and I will smile,
With a brow as free from sorrow
As if my heart was glad the while,
And looked for as glad a morrow.
Aye, give me wine: to me 'tis fraught
With a spell of daily gladness,
For it drowns the voice of that lonely thought
Whose whispers are full of sadness.
Then serve the feast, and we well drink
To the present's fleeting pleasures;
Let me drain the cup, for I would not think
Of the past with its buried treasures.
With a spell of daily gladness,
For it drowns the voice of that lonely thought
Whose whispers are full of sadness.
Then serve the feast, and we well drink
To the present's fleeting pleasures;
Let me drain the cup, for I would not think
Of the past with its buried treasures.
Aye, give me wine: I'll cull to-night,
From the wreath by passion braided,
Some blossoms rainbow-hued and bright,
Some leaflets still unfaded;
For while young beauty's beaming eye
On my blighted brow reposes,
I'll pledge the love that awakes no sigh,
And gather life's thornless roses.
From the wreath by passion braided,
Some blossoms rainbow-hued and bright,
Some leaflets still unfaded;
For while young beauty's beaming eye
On my blighted brow reposes,
I'll pledge the love that awakes no sigh,
And gather life's thornless roses.
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |