love’s token-flowers 33 
Call in the guests, and I will smile, 
With a brow as free from sorrow, 
As if my heart was glad the while, 
And looked for as glad a morrow. 
Ay, give me wine; to me ’tis fraught 
With a spell of daily gladness, 
For it drowns the voice of that lonely thought 
Whose whispers are full of sadness ; 
Then serve the feast, and we will drink 
To the present’s fleeting pleasures, 
Let me drain the cup, for I would not think 
Of the past with its buried treasures. 
Ay, give me wine ; I’ll cull to-night, 
From the wreath by passion braided, 
Some blossoms rainbow-hued, and bright, 
Some leaflets still unfaded ; , 
For while young beauty’s beaming eye 
On my blighted brow reposes, 
I’ll pledge the love that awakes no sigh, 
And gather life’s thornless roses. 
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