You to the left and I to the right,
For the ways of men must sever--
And read more

You to the left and I to the right,
For the ways of men must sever--
And it may be for a day and a night,
And it well may be forever.
But whether we meet or whether we part,
(For our ways are past our knowing)
A pledge from the heart to its fellow heart,
On the ways we all are going!
Here's luck!
For we know not where we are going.

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.

Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit read more

Weren't the last drop in the well,
As I gasp'd upon the brink,
Ere my fainting spirit fell,
'Tis to thee that I would drink.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more

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!"

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss read more

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.

Here's to the town of New Haven,
The home of the truth and the light,
Where God read more

Here's to the town of New Haven,
The home of the truth and the light,
Where God speaks to Jones,
In the very same tones,
That he uses with Hadley and Dwight.

Here's to France, the moon whose magic rays move the tides of the
world.

Here's to France, the moon whose magic rays move the tides of the
world.

I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.

I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.

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.