Day And Night My Thoughts Incline Poem by Richard Henry Stoddard

Day And Night My Thoughts Incline



Day and night my thoughts incline
To the blandishments of wine:
Jars were made to drain, I think,
Wine, I know, was made to drink.

When I die (the day be far!),
Should the potters make a jar
Out of this poor clay of mine,
Let the jar be filled with wine!

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success