Better To Sink Beneath The Shock Than

Champagne With Its Foaming Whirls/as White As Cleopatra's Pearls.

Fools Are My Theme, Let Satire Be My Song.

Then Stirs The Feeling Infinite, So Felt In Solitude, Where We Are Least Alone.

Better To Sink Beneath The Shock Than Moulder Piecemeal On The Rock!

But Words Are Things, And A Small Drop Of Ink, Falling Like Dew, Upon A Thought, Produces That Which Makes Thousands, Perhaps Millions, Think.