Classic Poem

Short is perhaps our date of life,
But let us while we live be gay —
To those be thought and anxious care
Who build upon the distant day.

Though in our cup tyrannic power
Would dash the bitter dregs of fear,
We'll gaily quaff the mantling draught,
While patriot toasts the fancy cheer.

Sings not the seaman, tempest-tossed,
When surges wash the riven shroud —
Scorning the threat'ning voice of fate,
That pipes in rocking winds aloud?

Yes, he can take his cheerful glass,
And toast his mistress in the storm,
While duty and remembered joys
By turns his honest bosom warm.

And shall not we, in storms of state,
At base oppression's fury laugh,
And while the vital spirits flow,
To freedom fill, and fearless quaff?

Short is perhaps our date of life,
But let us while we live be gay —
To those be thought and anxious care
Who build upon the distant day.