Fools, Your Reward Is Neither Here Nor

Why, All The Saints And Sages Who Discuss'd Of The Two Worlds So Wisely - They Are Thrust Like Foolish Prophets Forth; Their Words To Scorn Are Scattered, And Their Mouths Are Stopped With Dust.

A Hair Divides What Is False And True.

So When That Angel Of The Darker Drink, At Last Shall Find You By The River-brink, And, Offering His Cup, Invite Your Soul Forth To Your Lips To Quaff-you Shall Not Shrink.

Old Khayyám, Say You, Is A Debauchee;if Only You Were Half So Good As He!he Sins No Sins But Gentle Drunkenness,great-hearted Mirth, And Kind Adultery.but Yours The Cold Heart, And The Murderous Tongue,the Wintry Soul That Hates To Hear A Song,the Close-shut Fist, The Mean And Measuring Eye,and All The Little Poisoned Ways Of Wrong.

Here's To The Man Who Owns The Land That Bears The Grapes That Makes The Wine That Tastes As Good As This Does.