Comrades, fill no glass for me

Oh! comrades, fill no glass for me

To drown my soul in liquid flame

For if I drank, the toast should be

To blighted fortune health and fame.

Yet, though I long to quell the strife

That passion holds against my life,

Still, boon companions may ye be,

But comrades, fill no glass for me.

I know a breath that once was light

Whose patient sufferings need my care

I know a hearth that once was bright,

But drooping hopes have nestled there.

Then while the tear drops nightly steal

From wounded hearts that I should heal

Though boon companions may ye be,

But comrades, fill no glass for me.

When I was young I felt the tide

Of aspirations undefiled,

But manhood's years have wronged the pride

My parents centered in their child.

Then, by a mother's sacred tear,

By all that memory should revere,

Though boon companions may ye be,

Oh! comrades, fill no glass for me.

- Stephen Foster