 | Ephemeron |  |
Dreary Riddle!—who, by taking
Thought, shall read thee?—may we deem
Life the sleep, and death the waking
From a long distempered dream?
Thought, shall read thee?—may we deem
Life the sleep, and death the waking
From a long distempered dream?
Or, forlorn of its Ideal,
Must the heart, in self-defence,
Turn, for something that is real,
To the joys of time and sense?
Must the heart, in self-defence,
Turn, for something that is real,
To the joys of time and sense?
7
Will it more, indeed, avail us
Faith and reason to perplex—
Or, with wise Sardanapalus,
Eat, and drink, and woo the Sex?
Faith and reason to perplex—
Or, with wise Sardanapalus,
Eat, and drink, and woo the Sex?
What though, ever bending o'er us,
Glooms a black and starless sky—
Let a jolly rouse restore us,
Draining flask and flagon dry;
Raise the catch, and roar the chorus,
Fast and fierce while goblets fly—
Long the Night that lies before us—
Let us live until we die!
Glooms a black and starless sky—
Let a jolly rouse restore us,
Draining flask and flagon dry;
Raise the catch, and roar the chorus,
Fast and fierce while goblets fly—
Long the Night that lies before us—
Let us live until we die!
Wine is physic meet for sadness,
Impish Care from song must flit,
Mirth is next of kin to gladness—
Will the world outweigh a fit
Of the fine celestial madness,
Worth all wisdom and all wit—
Impish Care from song must flit,
Mirth is next of kin to gladness—
Will the world outweigh a fit
Of the fine celestial madness,
Worth all wisdom and all wit—
Which can make a common creature,
Careless thousands might pass by,
Dull of soul—and e'en in feature
Irksome to a classic eye—
Sovereign Empress of all nature,
From the centre to the sky!
Careless thousands might pass by,
Dull of soul—and e'en in feature
8
Sovereign Empress of all nature,
From the centre to the sky!
Love is good, and so is Liquor—
Better still, methinks, the Weed!
Soothing longer, kindled quicker,
Trustier Fere in time of need.
Better still, methinks, the Weed!
Soothing longer, kindled quicker,
Trustier Fere in time of need.
Lo, the wreath volute and taper,
From its ashes spiral-curled,
Born in fire, and lost in vapor,
Floats, an emblem of the World.
From its ashes spiral-curled,
Born in fire, and lost in vapor,
Floats, an emblem of the World.
Spectral thus and evanescent
All the splendor which thou seest;
What is mightiest in the present,
On the morrow may be least—
Like yon pale imperial Crescent
Waning in the stormy East.
All the splendor which thou seest;
What is mightiest in the present,
On the morrow may be least—
Like yon pale imperial Crescent
Waning in the stormy East.
| Ephemeron | |