Muse Of The Many Twinkling Feet, Whose

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.

Gone, Glimmering Through The Dream Of Things That Were.

That Low Vice, Curiosity!

Romances Paint At Full Length People's Wooing. But Only Give A Bust Of Marriages.

If Ancient Tales Say True, Nor Wrong These Holy Men.