I Loved My Country, And I Hated

No Hand Can Make The Clock Strike For Me The Hours That Are Passed.

Let Us Have Wine And Women, Mirth And Laughter, Sermons And Soda Water The Day After.

I Live Not In Myself, But I Become Portion Of That Around Me: And To Me High Mountains Are A Feeling, But The Hum Of Human Cities Torture.

Let Us Have Wine And Woman, Mirth And Laughter, Sermons And Soda Water The Day After. Man, Being Reasonable, Must Get Drunk; The Best Of Life Is But Intoxication: Glory, The Grape, Love, Gold, In These Are Sunk The Hopes Of All Men, And Of Every Nation; Without Their Sap, How Branchless Were The Trunk Of Life's Strange Tree, So Fruitful On Occasion: But To Return--get Very Drunk; And When You Wake With Head-ache, You Shall See What Then.

Such Partings Break The Heart They Fondly Hope To Heal.