To My Lady Fair.
To my lady fair
I fill my cup!
To my lady fair
With the cheeks so rare
Where the dimples dare
To tarry;
To her footsteps bright
So like the flight
Of a swallow light
And airy—
To my lady fair
I fill my cup,
To my lady fair
I drink it up!—Bayard Bacon.
Oh, lovely woman! man's great bane
And joy! You ne'er can pall!
Source of all pleasure and all pain,
And—bless you! worth it all!
—Lewis.
Drink to fair woman, who, I think,
Is most entitled to it;
For if anything could ever drive me to drink,
She certainly could do it.—B. Jabez Jenkins.
Here's to woman, lovely woman—
Gladdest in her gladness when she's glad;
Saddest in her sadness when she's sad;
But her gladness when she's glad,
And her sadness when she's sad,
Aren't in it with her badness when she's bad.
I've toasted your eyes of blue, Marie,
I've toasted your hair of brown;
I've toasted your name with joyous glee
To every man in town.
I've done my best, so here's my plea.
Fair lady of winsome frown,
Could you decide to make for me
My toast of golden brown?