FILL the bowl with rosy wine,
Around our temples roses twine.
And let us cheerfully awhile,
Like the wine and roses smile.
Crown'd with roses we contemn
Gyge's wealthy diadem.
Today is ours; what do we fear?
Today is ours; we have it here.
Let's treat it kindly, that it may
Wish, at least, with us to stay.
Let's banish business, banish sorrow;
To the Gods belongs tomorrow.
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Comments about this poem (The Epicure by Abraham Cowley )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(15 April 1958)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Elinor Morton Wylie
(7 September 1885 – 16 December 1928)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edwin Arlington Robinson
(22 December 1869 – 6 April 1935)
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