Friends whom to-night once more I greet,
Most glad am I with you to be,
And, as I look around, I meet
Many a face right good to see;
But one I miss--ah! where is he?--
Of merry eye and sparkling jest,
Who used to brim my glass for me;
I drink--in what?--the Absent Guest.
Low lies he in his winding-sheet,
By organized hypocrisy
Hurled from his happy wine-clad seat,
Stilled his kind heart and hushed his glee;
His very name daren't mention we,
That good old friend who brought such zest,
And set our tongues and spirits free:
I drink--in what?--the Absent Guest.
No choice to-night 'twixt "dry" or "sweet,"
'Twixt red or white, 'twixt Rye,--ah! me--
Or Scotch--and think! we live to see't--
No whispered word, nor massive fee,
Nor even influenza plea,
Can raise a bubble; but, as best
We may, we make our hollow spree:
I drink--in what?--the Absent Guest.