Jump to content
Sign in to follow this  
grogdog

Beer by George Arnold

Recommended Posts

Here, 
    With my beer 
I sit, 
While golden moments flit: 
    Alas! 
    They pass 
Unheeded by: 
And, as they fly, 
I, 
Being dry, 
    Sit, idly sipping here 
    My beer. 
 
O, finer far 
Than fame, or riches, are 
The graceful smoke-wreaths of this free cigar! 
    Why 
    Should I 
    Weep, wail, or sigh? 
    What if luck has passed me by? 
What if my hopes are dead,—  
My pleasures fled? 
    Have I not still 
    My fill 
Of right good cheer,— 
Cigars and beer? 
 
    Go, whining youth, 
    Forsooth! 
Go, weep and wail, 
Sigh and grow pale, 
    Weave melancholy rhymes 
    On the old times, 
Whose joys like shadowy ghosts appear,—
But leave me to my beer! 
    Gold is dross,— 
    Love is loss,—
So, if I gulp my sorrows down, 
Or see them drown 
In foamy draughts of old nut-brown, 
Then do I wear the crown, 
    Without the cross!
  • Like 2

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this  

×