The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my glass, and I listened With love to his odorous music, His flushed and magnificent song. |
The sun,
Closing his benediction, Sinks, and the darkening air Thrills with a sense of triumphing night-- |
There falls on the old, gray city
An influence luminous and serene A shining peace. |
Under the bludgeonings of chance / My head is bloody, but unbowed. |
What is to come we know not. But we know
That what has been was good -- was good to show, Better to hide, and best of all to bear. We are the masters of the days that were; We have lived, we have loved, we have suffered . . . even so. |
Who but knows
How it goes! Life's a last year's rose. |