Kiss the maid and pass her round,
Lips like hers were made for many.
Our loves are far from us to-night,
But these red lips are sweet as any.
Let no empty glass be
Aloof from our good table's sparkle,
At the acme of our
Here are francs to keep the circle.
They are far who miss us most—Sip and kiss —how well we love them,
Battling through the world to
Their hearts at peace, their God above them.
This poem taken from "Last Songs" by Francis Ledwidge,
Published by Herbert Jenkins,
London 1918 [page 56-57]Poem Dated: February 11th, 1917.
Words and spelling verified JS
