THE dinner-bell, the dinner-bell <br />Is ringing loud and clear; <br />Through hill and plain, through street and lane, <br />It echoes far and near; <br />From curtained hall and whitewashed stall, <br />Wherever men can hide, <br />Like bursting waves from ocean caves, <br />They float upon the tide. <br /> <br />I smell the smell of roasted meat! <br />I hear the hissing fry <br />The beggars know where they can go, <br />But where, oh where shall I? <br />At twelve o'clock men took my hand, <br />At two they only stare, <br />And eye me with a fearful look, <br />As if I were a bear! <br /> <br />The poet lays his laurels down, <br />And hastens to his greens; <br />The happy tailor quits his goose, <br />To riot on his beans; <br />The weary cobbler snaps his thread, <br />The printer leaves his pi; <br />His very devil hath a home, <br />But what, oh what have I? <br /> <br />Methinks I hear an angel voice, <br />That softly seems to say <br />'Pale stranger, all may yet be well, <br />Then wipe thy tears away; <br />Erect thy head, and cock thy hat, <br />And follow me afar, <br />And thou shalt have a jolly meal, <br />And charge it at the bar.' <br /> <br />I hear the voice! I go! I go! <br />Prepare your meat and wine! <br />They little heed their future need <br />Who pay not when they dine. <br />Give me to-day the rosy bowl, <br />Give me one golden dream,-- <br />To-morrow kick away the stool, <br />And dangle from the beam!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-noontide-lyric/
