When homeward from the streams we turn,
Good cheer our sport replaces,
There's liquor trembling in the glass,
There's joy on all our faces!
We drink sweet healths, a merry round,
We talk old stories over,
And sing glad staves, like summer birds
Below their leafy clover.
Thus cheerily our evenings pass,
Till lulled below the quilting,
We sleep our toils off, and are forth
Before the lark is lilting.
All joy be with our heart's kin bold!
May care's net ne'er entangle,
Nor woe nor poverty depress
A brother of the angle! ~ Stoddard
