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Poem by William Makepeace Thackeray The Last of May By fate's benevolent award, Should I survive the day, I'll drink a bumper with my lord Upon the last of May. That I may reach that happy time The kindly gods I pray, For are not ducks and pease in prime Upon the last of May? At thirty boards, 'twixt now and then, My knife and fork shall play; But better wine and better men I shall not meet in May. And though, good friend, with whom I dine, Your honest head is gray, And, like this grizzled head of mine, Has seen its last of May; Yet, with a heart that's ever kind, A gentle spirit gay, You've spring perennial in your mind, And round you make a May! William Makepeace Thackeray William Makepeace Thackeray's other poems: 1297 Views |
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