Or Like The Snow Falls In The

Man's Inhumanity To Man Makes Countless Thousands Mourn!

But Pleasures Are Like Poppies Spread, You Seize The Flower, It's Bloom Is Shed; Or, Like The Snow-fall In The River, A Moment White, Then Melts Forever.

I Love Drinking Now And Then. It Defecates The Standing Pool Of Thought. A Man Perpetually In The Paroxysm And Fears Of Inebriety Is Like A Half-drowned Stupid Wretch Condemned To Labor Unceasingly In Water; But A Now-and-then Tribute To Bacchus Is Like The Cold Bath, Bracing And Invigorating.

Then Gently Scan Your Brother Man, Still Gentler Sister Woman; Though They May Gang A Kennin' Wrang, To Step Aside Is Human.

Misled By Fancy's Meteor Ray, By Passion Driven; But Yet The Light That Led Astray Was Light From Heaven.