Explore "Epithalamium" by Fernando Pessoa on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Even ye, now old, that to this come as to / Your past, your own joy throw / Into the cup, and with the younger drink / That which now makes you think / Of what love was when love was. (For not now / Your winter thoughts allow).
Drink with the hot day, the bride's sad joy and / The bridegroom's haste inreined, / The memory of that day when ye were young / And, with great paeans sung / Along the surface of the depths of you, / You paired and the night saw / The day come in and you did still pant close, / And still the half-fallen flesh distending rose.