The pledge of Friendship! it is still divine, <br />Though watery floods have quenched its burning wine; <br />Whatever vase the sacred drops may hold, <br />The gourd, the shell, the cup of beaten gold, <br />Around its brim the hand of Nature throws <br />A garland sweeter than the banquet’s rose. <br />Bright are the blushes of the vine-wreathed bowl, <br />Warm with the sunshine of Anacreon’s soul, <br />But dearer memories gild the tasteless wave <br />That fainting Sidney perished as he gave. <br />’T is the heart’s current lends the cup its glow, <br />Whate’er the fountain whence the draught may flow,— <br />The diamond dew-drops sparkling through the sand, <br />Scooped by the Arab in his sunburnt hand, <br />Or the dark streamlet oozing from the snow, <br />Where creep and crouch the shuddering Esquimaux; <br />Ay, in the stream that, ere again we meet, <br />Shall burst the pavement, glistening at our feet, <br />And, stealing silent from its leafy hills, <br />Thread all our alleys with its thousand rills,— <br />In each pale draught if generous feeling blend, <br />And o’er the goblet friend shall smile on friend, <br />Even cold Cochituate every heart shall warm, <br />And genial Nature still defy reform!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-sentiment/
