WHO PRESENTED ME WITH A SILVER LOVING CUP <br />ON THE TWENTY-NINTH OF AUGUST, M DCCC LXXXIX <br /> <br />'WHO gave this cup?' The secret thou wouldst steal <br />Its brimming flood forbids it to reveal: <br />No mortal's eye shall read it till he first <br />Cool the red throat of thirst. <br /> <br />If on the golden floor one draught remain, <br />Trust me, thy careful search will be in vain; <br />Not till the bowl is emptied shalt thou know <br />The names enrolled below. <br /> <br />Deeper than Truth lies buried in her well <br />Those modest names the graven letters spell <br />Hide from the sight; but wait, and thou shalt see <br />Who the good angels be. <br /> <br />Whose bounty glistens in the beauteous gift <br />That friendly hands to loving lips shall lift <br />Turn the fair goblet when its floor is dry,-- <br />Their names shall meet thine eye. <br /> <br />Count thou their number on the beads of Heaven <br />Alas! the clustered Pleiads are but seven; <br />Nay, the nine sister Muses are too few,-- <br />The Graces must add two. <br /> <br />'For whom this gift?' For one who all too long <br />Clings to his bough among the groves of song; <br />Autumn's last leaf, that spreads its faded wing <br />To greet a second spring. <br /> <br />Dear friends, kind friends, whate'er the cup may hold, <br />Bathing its burnished depths, will change to gold <br />Its last bright drop let thirsty Maenads drain, <br />Its fragrance will remain. <br /> <br />Better love's perfume in the empty bowl <br />Than wine's nepenthe for the aching soul; <br />Sweeter than song that ever poet sung, <br />It makes an old heart young!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-eleven-ladies/
