The Libertine-A Toast to Thee

tHE LIBERTINE

To Whom should we drink. A Toast to Thee.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To whom shall we drink to present

or past to a mistress who boasts

no borrowed rhymes or sadly a

lass rolling in the clover of Eyre

to those that are absent or late for the task.

Or

To all our dead we loved with sorrow

of heart or the living and breathing who

are still with us now.

 

I toast thee to my friend of my youth who

once dear to my bosom and cast away beyond

eternal rim lives alone rotting away

with his bottle of gin.

 

He once traveled in the warmth of sunshine

standing with virtue as he graced life with

gentle moods so I toast the gleams and

gloom of our boyhood thoughts lived in

dangerous alley ways and neighborhoods.

 

I make a toast to dreams that cannot die but

come over me with a chill yet soothe my

restless feeling heart sprinkling my noon

of time with freshest morning dew and

kissed by blueberries growing on the hill.

 

A toast to the maidens who’s pillows I shared

and tossed back their long locks and lifted

their bosoms and offered them bare while

flowers pressed about their feet in bloom so fair.

 

God bless be to all those who watched over

my youth and saved me from grace as I fell

from it often to find my footing at Heaven’s gate.

 

Toast not my wretched soul torn and weary yet

give me rest and old wine to drink the gods

slippery juice of grapes plucked from the vines

clinging to the sun drenched southern cliffs

of ancient times.

 

Now in the ocean’s deep red vintage melts the

sun we toast from a single vine of which we

drank our fill to taste the salt sea wine divine

as mermaid’s beauty shone beyond the coral reefs.

 

So let’s lift up our glass for this last will be our

epitaph of tears till early morns light will flow

into evenings dew while this poet’s pulse races

and chases all the places from days gone past

of so many lost faces I toast thee.

 

 

© Copyright Vincent Moore. All Rights Reserved.

 


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