Sixty-Five Sonnets With Prefatory Remarks on the Accordance of the Sonnet with the Powers of the English Language: Also, A Few Miscellaneous Poems [by Thomas Doubleday] |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
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| XVIII. |
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| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
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| XXV. |
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| XXIX. |
| XXX. | XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
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| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
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| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
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 | Sixty-Five Sonnets |  |
56
XXX.
Fill all your beakers to the very brim,And drink a measure to the absent fair;
And who disdains to join the festive pray'r
Neglect and sorrow be the meed of him.
The soul that gives her eye's delicious swim
Soft though it be, our happiness is there;
And they who in the dotage do not share
Their eyes or wits with wine or age are dim.
Behold our vines that smile around; see where
The loaded boughs with clust'ring fruit are crown'd;
Yet these, without support and fostering care,
A certain and a fatal lot had found,
And all the inspiration that they bear
With the weak stems been trodden to the ground.
| Sixty-Five Sonnets | |