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.
The Bowl
Joseph Skipsey
(1)
Poem topics: evil, howl, soul, deep, bright, droplet, troll, golden, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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