A Toast

See this bowl of purple wine,

Life-blood of the lusty vine!

All the warmth of summer suns

In the vintage liquid runs,

All the glow of winter nights

Plays about its jewel lights,

Thoughts of time when love was young

Lurk its ruby drops among,

And its deepest depths are dyed

With delight of friendship tried.

Worthy offering, I ween,

For a god or for a queen,

Is the draught I pour to thee,—

Comfort of all misery,

Single friend of the forlorn,

Haven of all beings born,

Hope when trouble wakes at night,

And when naught delights, delight.

Holy Death, I drink to thee;

Do not part my friends and me.

Take this gift, which for a night

Puts dull leaden care to flight,

Thou who takest grief away

For a night and for a day.