AIR—'Rossen the Beau.' <br /> <br /> <br />COME fill up the glass, and tho' never <br /> We tasted of gladness before, <br />The thought of this moment for ever <br /> Shall gladden the heart to its core: <br />An isle as we sail o'er life's ocean? <br /> An isle shall this moment remain, <br />On which we'll look back with emotion, <br /> And long to salute it again! <br /> <br /> Chorus—Come fill up the glass, etc. <br /> <br />Let the miser exult in his treasure; <br /> The king in his sceptre and crown; <br />The lover be loved without measure; <br /> The warrior blest with renown; <br />We envied no mortal his blisses, <br /> When anguish our bosom hath torn; <br />And tasting such treasure as this is, <br /> We laugh every other to scorn. <br /> <br /> Chorus—Come fill up the glass, etc. <br /> <br />Since the life-giving goblet is given, <br /> Man may be oppressed by the day, <br />But the links of oppression are riven <br /> When night brings its spell into play: <br />That spell so excelling's united <br /> All other fair spells in its train, <br />To enjoy which, ho! ho! you're invited <br /> To pass round the goblet again. <br /> <br /> Chorus—Come fill up the glass, etc.<br /><br />Joseph Skipsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-social-glass/
