Can Death Be Sleep, When Life Is

In A Drear-nighted December, Too Happy, Happy Tree, Thy Branches Ne'er Remember Their Green Felicity.

Give Me Women, Wine And Snuff Until I Cry Out 'hold, Enough!' You May Do So San Objection Till The Day Of Resurrection; For Bless My Beard Then Aye Shall Be My Beloved Trinity.

Talking Of Pleasure, This Moment I Was Writing With One Hand, And With The Other Holding To My Mouth A Nectarine - How Good How Fine. It Went Down All Pulpy, Slushy, Oozy, All Its Delicious Embonpoint Melted Down My Throat Like A Large, Beatified Strawberry.

The Imagination May Be Compared To Adam's Dream-he Awoke And Found It Truth.

Like A Mermaid In Sea-weed, She Dreams Awake, Trembling In Her Soft And Chilly Nest.