Let all my genial spirits advance
⁠To meet and greet a whiter sun;
⁠My drooping memory will not shun
The foaming grape of eastern France.

It circles round, and fancy plays,
⁠And hearts are warm'd and faces bloom,
⁠As drinking health to bride and groom
We wish them store of happy days.

Nor count me all to blame if I
⁠Conjecture of a stiller guest,
⁠Perchance, perchance, among the rest,
And, tho' in silence, wishing joy.

But they must go, the time draws on,
⁠And those white-favour'd horses wait;
⁠They rise, but linger, it is late;
Farewell, we kiss, and they are gone.

A shade falls on us like the dark
⁠From little cloudlets on the grass,
⁠But sweeps away as out we pass
To range the woods, to roam the park,