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An Ode To Sir Clipseby Crew
Here we securely live and eat
The cream of meat,
And keep eternal fires,
By which we sit, and do divine
And rage inspires.
If full we charm, then call upon
To grace the frantic thyrse;
And having drunk, we raise a shout
To praise his verse.
Then cause we Horace to be read,
Which sung, or said,
A goblet to the brim
Of lyric wine, both swell’d and crown’d,
We quaff to him.
Thus, thus we live, and spend the hours
In wine and flowers,
And make the frolic year,
The month, the week, the instant day
The longer here.
Come then, brave knight, and see the cell
Wherein I dwell,
And my enchantments too,
Which love and noble freedom is;
Shall fetter you.
Take horse, and come, or be so kind
To send your mind,
Though but in numbers few,
And I shall think I have the heart,
Of Clipseby Crew.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.