The Entire World Shall Be Populous With

The Flower That Once Has Blown Forever Dies.

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.

The Revelations Of Devout And Learn'd Who Rose Before Us, And As Prophets Burn'd, Are All But Stories, Which, Awoke From Sleep They Told Their Comrades, And To Sleep Return'd.

If I Don't Enjoy Myself Now, When Shall I?

A Loaf Of Bread, A Jug Of Wine, And Thou.