Poetry of the Week - Lines Inscribed Upon a Cup Formed from a Skull

My apologies for vanishing off the map for a couple of weeks. Work picked up at the same time that the LARP I've been preparing for for years finally debuted. This month will likely be busy as well, with work and weddings and a renewed commitment to everything I put off in the interim (most notably words and swords), but posts should resume their usual schedules.

In honor of another LARP, which is having its final event this upcoming weekend, I present my favorite of all of Byron's poetry, and a gem I think everyone should know exists:

Lines Inscribed Upon a Cup Formed from a Skull - Lord Byron
Start not—nor deem my spirit fled:
   In me behold the only skull
From which, unlike a living head,
   Whatever flows is never dull.

I lived, I loved, I quaff’d, like thee:
   I died: let earth my bones resign;
Fill up—thou canst not injure me;
   The worm hath fouler lips than thine.

Better to hold the sparkling grape,
   Than nurse the earth-worm’s slimy brood;
And circle in the goblet’s shape
   The drink of Gods, than reptiles’ food.

Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,
   In aid of others’ let me shine;
And when, alas! our brains are gone,
   What nobler substitute than wine?

Quaff while thou canst—another race,
   When thou and thine like me are sped,
May rescue thee from earth’s embrace,
   And rhyme and revel with the dead.

Why not? since through life’s little day
   Our heads such sad effects produce;
Redeem’d from worms and wasting clay,
   This chance is theirs, to be of use.


Stay safe, friends. Good luck with your time travel and god troubles! I hope to hear stories after.