"Beer": a poem by George Arnold.

"Beer", a poem for today, by George Arnold (1834–1865), with verse a good measure more florid than its unadorned title.

Here,
With my beer 
I sit, 
While golden moments flit: 
Alas! 
They pass 
Unheeded by: 
And, as they fly, 
I, 
Being dry, 
Sit, idly sipping here 
My beer.

O, finer far 
Than fame, or riches, are 
The graceful smoke-wreathes of this cigar! 
Why 
Should I 
Weep, wail, or sigh? 
What if luck has passed me by? 
What if my hopes are dead,— 
My pleasures fled? 
Have I not still 
My fill 
Of right good cheer,— 
Cigars and beer

Go, whining youth, 
Forsooth! 
Go, weep and wail, 
Sigh and grow pale, 
  Weave melancholy rhymes 
  On the old times, 
Whose joys like shadowy ghosts appear, 
But leave me to my beer! 
  Gold is dross,— 
  Love is loss,— 
So, if I gulp my sorrows down, 
Or see them drown 
In foamy draughts of old nut-brown, 
Then do wear the crown, 
  Without the cross!

From Poetry Foundation.org:

Born in 1834 in New York City, George Arnold once had aspirations of becoming an artist before deciding to devote his time to literature. A popular author, journalist, and poet of the mid-19th century, he wrote for various publications and periodicals, including the Saturday Press, Vanity Fair, and Weekly Review under the name “McArone,” which brought him recognition as a humorist.

In addition to humorous pieces, Arnold also wrote poetry and published books on children’s games. He was best known for his poem “The Jolly Old Pedagogue” as well as the McArone Papers, which he wrote under his pseudonym.

Arnold was also a patron of Pfaff’s Beer Cellar, a popular watering hole for a group of New York bohemian writers and artists, including Walt Whitman.