See this bowl of purple wine, <br />Life-blood of the lusty vine! <br />All the warmth of summer suns <br />In the vintage liquid runs, <br />All the glow of winter nights <br />Plays about its jewel lights, <br />Thoughts of time when love was young <br />Lurk its ruby drops among, <br />And its deepest depths are dyed <br />With delight of friendship tried. <br />Worthy offering, I ween, <br />For a god or for a queen, <br />Is the draught I pour to thee,-- <br />Comfort of all misery, <br />Single friend of the forlorn, <br />Haven of all beings born, <br />Hope when trouble wakes at night, <br />And when naught delights, delight. <br />Holy Death, I drink to thee; <br />Do not part my friends and me. <br />Take this gift, which for a night <br />Puts dull leaden care to flight, <br />Thou who takest grief away <br />For a night and for a day.<br /><br />George Santayana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-toast-2/
