---

Thomas Moore - One Bumper at Parting
Work rating: Low

One bumper at parting! — though many 
   Have circled the board since we met, 
The fullest, the saddest of any 
   Remains to be crown`d by us yet. 
The sweetness that pleasure hath in it 
   Is always so slow to come forth, 
That seldom, alas, till the minute 
   It dies, do we know half its worth. 
But come — may our life`s happy measure 
   Be all of such moments made up; 
They`re born on the bosom of Pleasure, 
   Thy die `midst the tears of the cup. 

As onward we journey, how pleasant 
   To pause and inhabit awhile 
Those few sunny spots, like the present, 
   That `mid the dull wilderness smile! 
But Time, like a pitiless master, 
   Cries "Onward!" and spurs the gay hours — 
Ah, never doth Time travel faster 
   Than when his way lies among flowers. 
But come — may our life`s happy measure 
   Be all of such moments made up; 
They`re born on the bosom of Pleasure, 
   They die `midst the tears of the cup. 

We saw how the sun look`d in sinking, 
   The waters beneath him how bright; 
And now, let our farewell of drinking 
   Resemble that farewell of light. 
You saw how he finish`d by darting 
   His beam o`er a deep billow`s brim — 
So, fill up, let`s shine at our parting, 
   In full liquid glory, like him. 
And oh! may our life`s happy measure 
   Of moments like this be made up, 
`Twas born on the bosom of Pleasure, 
   It dies `mid the tears of the cup.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.