At The Tavern Poem by Horace Smith

At The Tavern

Rating: 2.6


Champagne doth not a luncheon make,
Nor caviare a meal;
Men gluttonous and rich may take
These till they make them ill.
If I've potatoes to my chop,
And after that have cheese,
Angels in Pond & Spiers's shop
Serve no such luxuries.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success