Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
Have ye tippled drink more fine
Than mine host’s Canary wine?
John Keats (1795–1821)
Lines on the Mermaid Tavern
More Entries
- But that which most doth take my muse and me, Is a pure cup of rich Canary wine,
- Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music
- Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music
- His element is so fine Being sharpened by his death
- Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
- Those partial to drink were hiding faults and dishonesty. They were sloppy souls, even the ones with pleasant manners and fine noses.
- I prefer to think that God is not dead, just drunk.
- I prefer to think that God is not dead, just drunk
- Everyone has his own lifetime dream
- Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine;