Bring wine, for wine alone may quench the fire
Of fleeting hope and unfulfilled desire,
Wake! for in waking sleep shall find its crown,
Youth's ardour faileth fast, the strong shall tire.
Bring wine, for wine alone may quench the fire
Of fleeting hope and unfulfilled desire.

Perchance the cup to which my lips are pressed
Has lived and loved ere yet it sank to rest,
The very handle that my fingers clasp
Has lain in rapture on a woman's breast.

Drink! in forgetfulness thy wounded soul
May find a moment's peace though round thee roll
The wildest floods of grief, thou need'st not fear.
Thine ark of safety is the brimming bowl.