<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353752" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Drink Out Thy Glass</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Drink out thy glass! See, on thy threshold, nightly,<br>Staying his sword, stands Death, awaiting thee.<br>Be not alarmed; the grave-door, opened slightly,<br>Closes again; a full year it may be<br>Ere thou art dragged, poor sufferer, to the grave.<br>Pick the octave!<br>Tune up the strings! Sing of life with glee!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Golden's the hue thy dull, wan cheeks are showing;<br>Shrunken's thy chest, and flat each shoulder-blade.<br>Give me thy hand! Each dark vein, larger growing,<br>Is, to my touch, as if in water laid.<br>Damp are these hands; stiff are these veins becoming.<br>Pick now, and strumming,<br>Empty thy bottle! Sing! drink unafraid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">. . . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Skal, then, my boy! Old Bacchus sends last greeting;<br>Freya's farewell receive thou, o'er thy bowl.<br>Fast in her praise thy thin blood flows, repeating<br>Its old-time force, as it was wont to roll.<br>Sing, read, forget; nay, think and weep while thinking.<br>Art thou for drinking<br>Another bottle? Thou art dead? No Skal!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Carl+Michael+Bellman">Carl Michael Bellman</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353752" data-title="Drink Out Thy Glass de Carl Michael Bellman" data-description="Drink out thy glass! See, on thy threshold, nightly, Staying his sword, stands Death, awaiting thee. Be not alarmed; the grave-door, opened slightly, Closes again; a full year it may be Ere thou art dragged, poor sufferer, to the grave. Pick the o..."></div> </div> </div>

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