The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Complete. Oliver Wendell Holmes

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СКАЧАТЬ Fingers touch when kerchiefs fall;

       Shorter ell than mercers clip

       Is the space from hand to lip.

      Trust not such as talk in tropes,

       Full of pistols, daggers, ropes;

       All the hemp that Russia bears

       Scarce would answer lovers' prayers;

       Never thread was spun so fine,

       Never spider stretched the line,

       Would not hold the lovers true

       That would really swing for you.

      Fiercely some shall storm and swear,

       Beating breasts in black despair;

       Others murmur with a sigh,

       You must melt, or they will die:

       Painted words on empty lies,

       Grubs with wings like butterflies;

       Let them die, and welcome, too;

       Pray what better could they do?

      Fare thee well: if years efface

       From thy heart love's burning trace,

       Keep, oh keep that hallowed seat

       From the tread of vulgar feet;

       If the blue lips of the sea

       Wait with icy kiss for me,

       Let not thine forget the vow,

       Sealed how often, Love, as now.

A SONG OF OTHER DAYS

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      As o'er the glacier's frozen sheet

       Breathes soft the Alpine rose,

       So through life's desert springing sweet

       The flower of friendship grows;

       And as where'er the roses grow

       Some rain or dew descends,

       'T is nature's law that wine should flow

       To wet the lips of friends.

       Then once again, before we part,

       My empty glass shall ring;

       And he that has the warmest heart

       Shall loudest laugh and sing.

      They say we were not born to eat;

       But gray-haired sages think

       It means, Be moderate in your meat,

       And partly live to drink.

       For baser tribes the rivers flow

       That know not wine or song;

       Man wants but little drink below,

       But wants that little strong.

       Then once again, etc.

      If one bright drop is like the gem

       That decks a monarch's crown,

       One goblet holds a diadem

       Of rubies melted down!

       A fig for Caesar's blazing brow,

       But, like the Egyptian queen,

       Bid each dissolving jewel glow

       My thirsty lips between.

       Then once again, etc.

      The Grecian's mound, the Roman's urn,

       Are silent when we call,

       Yet still the purple grapes return

       To cluster on the wall;

       It was a bright Immortal's head

       They circled with the vine,

       And o'er their best and bravest dead

       They poured the dark-red wine.

       Then once again, etc.

      Methinks o'er every sparkling glass

       Young Eros waves his wings,

       And echoes o'er its dimples pass

       From dead Anacreon's strings;

       And, tossing round its beaded brim

       Their locks of floating gold,

       With bacchant dance and choral hymn

       Return the nymphs of old.

       Then once again, etc.

      A welcome then to joy and mirth,

       From hearts as fresh as ours,

       To scatter o'er the dust of earth

       Their sweetly mingled flowers;

       'T is Wisdom's self the cup that fills

       In spite of Folly's frown,

       And Nature, from her vine-clad hills,

       That rains her life-blood down!

       Then once again, before we part,

       My empty glass shall ring;

       And he that has the warmest heart

       Shall loudest laugh and sing.

SONG

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      FOR A TEMPERANCE DINNER TO WHICH LADIES WERE INVITED (NEW YORK MERCANTILE LIBRARY ASSOCIATION, NOVEMBER, 1842)

      A HEALTH to dear woman! She bids us untwine,

       From the cup it encircles, the fast-clinging vine;

       But her cheek in its crystal with pleasure will glow,

       And mirror its bloom in the bright wave below.

      A СКАЧАТЬ