| Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912. |
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| Edward Coate Pinkney. 1802–1828 |
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| 32. Song |
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| WE break the glass, whose sacred wine | |
| To some beloved health we drain, | |
| Lest future pledges, less divine, | |
| Should e'er the hallowed toy profane; | |
| And thus I broke a heart, that poured | 5 |
| Its tide of feelings out for thee, | |
| In draughts, by after-times deplored, | |
| Yet dear to memory. | |
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| But still the old, empassioned ways | |
| And habits of my mind remain, | 10 |
| And still unhappy light displays | |
| Thine image chambered in my brain, | |
| And still it looks as when the hours | |
| Went by like flights of singing birds, | |
| Or that soft chain of spoken flowers, | 15 |
| And airy gems, thy words. | |
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