Paul Laurence Dunbar
The Stirrup Cup
Come, drink a stirrup cup with me,
Before we close our rouse.
You 're all aglow with wine, I know:
The master of the house,
Unmindful of our revelry,
Has drowned the carking devil care,
And slumbers in his chair.
Come, drink a cup before we start;
We 've far to ride to-night.
And Death may take the race we make,
And check our gallant flight:
But even he must play his part,
And tho' the look he wears be grim,
We 'll drink a toast to him!
For Death,--a swift old chap is he,
And swift the steed He rides.
He needs no chart o'er main or mart,
For no direction bides.
So, come, a final, cup with me,
And let the soldiers' chorus swell,--
To hell with care, to hell!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Stirrup Cup by Paul Laurence Dunbar )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Kippers, Phil Soar
- what does hope tell you?, RIC S. BASTASA
- OUT, Phil Soar
- then we have changed from quizzical to a.., RIC S. BASTASA
- A Fishy Tale, Phil Soar
- those who are dying, RIC S. BASTASA
- For Lou and the rest of us, RIC S. BASTASA
- The Bogeyman, Phil Soar
- The Friday Night Fights, Ronald Wallace
- 'You Can't Write a Poem About McDonald's', Ronald Wallace