Classic Poem

Who cares for nothing alone is free,—
Sit down, good fellow, and drink with me!

With a careless heart and a merry eye
He laughs at the world as the world goes by;

He laughs at power, and wealth, and fame;
He laughs at virtue, he laughs at shame;

He laughs at hope, and he laughs at fear;
At memory's dead leaves, crisp and sere;

He laughs at the future, cold and dim,—
Nor earth nor heaven is dear to him.

O, that is the comrade fit for me!
He cares for nothing, his soul is free;

Free as the soul of the fragrant wine—
Sit down, good fellow, my heart is thine!

For I heed not custom, creed, nor law;
I care for nothing that ever I saw.

In every city my cups I quaff,
And over the chalice I riot and laugh.

I laugh, like the cruel and turbulent wave;
I laugh at the church, and I laugh at the grave.

I laugh at joy, and well I know
That I merrily, merrily laugh at woe.

I terribly laugh, with an oath and a sneer,
When I think that the hour of death is near;

For I know that death is a guest divine,
Who shall drink my blood, as I drink this wine.

And he cares for nothing! a king is he—
Come on, old fellow, and drink with me!

With you I will drink to the solemn past,
Though the cup that I drain should be my last.

I will drink to the phantoms of love and truth;
To ruined hopes and a wasted youth.

I will drink to the woman who wrought my woe,
In the diamond morning of long ago;

To a heavenly face, in sweet repose,
To the lily's snow and the blood of the rose;

To the splendor, caught from orient skies,
That thrilled in the dark of her hazel eyes,—

Her large eyes, wild with the fire of the south,—
And the dewy wine of her warm, red mouth.

I will drink to the thought of a better time;
To innocence, gone like a death-bell chime.

I will drink to the shadow of coming doom;
To the phantoms that wait in my lonely tomb.

I will drink to my soul, in its terrible mood,
Dimly and solemnly understood:

And, last of all, to the monarch of sin,
Who scaled its rampart and reigns within.

My sight is fading—it dies away—
I cannot tell is it night or day.

My heart is burnt and blackened with pain,
And a horrible darkness crushes my brain.

I cannot see you—the end is nigh—
But we'll laugh together before I die.

Through awful chasms I plunge and fall—
Your hand, good fellow,—I die—that's all.