CIGARS AND BEER.





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.



Oh, finer far

Than fame or riches are

The graceful smoke-wreaths of this 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 a cross!



GEORGE ARNOLD.





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