‘Twas writ at first, whatever was to be,
By pen, unheeding bliss or misery,
Yea, writ upon the tablet once for all,
To murmur or resist is vanity.
There is a mystery I know full well,
Which to all, good and bad, I can not tell;
My words are dark, but I can not unfold
The secrets of the station where I dwell.
Slaves of vain wisdom and philosophy,
Who toil at Being and Nonentity,
Parching your brains till they are like dry grapes,
Be wise in time, and drink grapejuice like me!
Small gains to learning on this earth accrue,
They pluck life’s fruitage, learning who eschew;
Take pattern by the fools who learning shun,
And then perchance shall fortune smile on you.
Youth is the time to pay court to the vine,
To quaff the cup, with revelers to recline;
A flood of water once laid waste the earth,
Hence learn to lay you waste with floods of wine. Continue reading