St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"
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Here's a health to the lass with the merry black eyes!
Here's a health to the lad with the read more
Here's a health to the lass with the merry black eyes!
Here's a health to the lad with the blue ones!
I am from Massachusetts,
The land of the sacred cod,
There the Adamses snub the Abootts
read more
I am from Massachusetts,
The land of the sacred cod,
There the Adamses snub the Abootts
And the Cabots walk with God.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of read more
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
Drink to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to read more
Drink to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.
Life, lift the full goblet--away with all sorrow--
The circle of friendship what freedom would sever?
To-day read more
Life, lift the full goblet--away with all sorrow--
The circle of friendship what freedom would sever?
To-day is our own, and a fig for to-morrow--
Here's to the Fourth and our country forever.
I come from good old Boston,
The home of the bean and the cod,
Where Cabots speak read more
I come from good old Boston,
The home of the bean and the cod,
Where Cabots speak only to Lowells,
And the Lowells speak only to God.
First pledge our Queen this solemn night,
Then drink to England, every guest;
That man's the best read more
First pledge our Queen this solemn night,
Then drink to England, every guest;
That man's the best Cosmopolite
Who knows his native country best.
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;
Here's to the flaunting, read more
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen;
Here's to the widow of fifty;
Here's to the flaunting, extravagant quean;
And here's to the housewife that's thrifty.
(Chorus:) Let the toast pass,--
Drink to the lass,
I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.
Drink to me with thine eyes alone; or if thou wilt, having put it
to thy lips, fill the read more
Drink to me with thine eyes alone; or if thou wilt, having put it
to thy lips, fill the cup with kisses, and so give it me.
