Here is an occasional poem, written in 1916 by Irish poet William Butler Yeats, almost 100 years ago today. It is a simple poem of simple and rich pleasures and as with many of Yeats' poem it is marked by melancholia, mixed with joy. The ephemera of life to be lived in love and with pleasures. Wine is certainly a pleasure, as is being with, seeing the ones you love most in the world. Social beings have social pleasures, drinking wine together is one.
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A Drinking Song
William Butler Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And loves comes in at the eye
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth
I look at you and sigh.
