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 | The complete poetical works of Oliver Wendell Holmes |  |
Of all that cluster round the genial board,
Not one so radiant as the banquet's lord.
Some say they fancy, but they know not why,
A shade of trouble brooding in his eye,
Nothing, perhaps,—the rooms are over-hot,—
Yet see his cheek,—the dull-red burning spot,—
Taste the brown sherry which he does not pass,—
Ha! That is brandy; see him fill his glass!
Not one so radiant as the banquet's lord.
Some say they fancy, but they know not why,
309
Nothing, perhaps,—the rooms are over-hot,—
Yet see his cheek,—the dull-red burning spot,—
Taste the brown sherry which he does not pass,—
Ha! That is brandy; see him fill his glass!
But not forgetful of his feasting friends,
To each in turn some lively word he sends;
See how he throws his baited lines about,
And plays his men as anglers play their trout.
To each in turn some lively word he sends;
See how he throws his baited lines about,
And plays his men as anglers play their trout.
| The complete poetical works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | |