"Look to the Rose that blows about us—'Lo, Laughing,' she says, 'into the World I blow, At once the silken Tassel of my Purse Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.'"

"Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, And wash the Body whence the Life has died, And in a winding-sheet of Vine-leaf wrapt, So bury me by some sweet Garden-side."

"Better to be intoxicated with wine than with the vain hopes of this world."

"Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and—sans End!"

"I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return'd to me, And evermore my Soul said, 'I myself am Heav'n and Hell.'"