The Bowl

JUST let the Owl of Evil howl;
To mourners of each rank and station, I cry,
Come, troll the Golden Bowl!
And quaff me with a deep potation.

Each sparkling droplet to the soul
Will yield o'er Care a bright ovation;
Then seize and troll the Golden Bowl!
That beams-in my imagination.

Joseph Skipsey The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.