Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889


By George Arnold (1834–1865)

[From Drift: A Sea-Shore Idyl: and Other Poems. 1866.—Edited by William Winter.]


With my beer

I sit,

While golden moments flit:


They pass

Unheeded by:

And, as they fly,


Being dry,

Sit, idly sipping here

My beer.

O, finer far

Than fame, or riches, are

The graceful smoke-wreaths of this free cigar!


Should I

Weep, wail, or sigh?

What if luck has passed me by?

What if my hopes are dead,—

My pleasures fled?

Have I not still

My fill

Of right good cheer,—

Cigars and beer?

Go, whining youth,


Go, weep and wail,

Sigh and grow pale,

Weave melancholy rhymes

On the old times,

Whose joys like shadowy ghosts appear,—

But leave to me my beer!

Gold is dross,—

Love is loss,—

So, if I gulp my sorrows down,

Or see them drown

In foamy draughts of old nut-brown,

Then do I wear the crown,

Without the cross!