And this I know: whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, One Flash of it within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.
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"And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in—Yes—Then fancy while thou art, thou art but what Thou shalt be—Nothing—Thou shalt not be less."
"And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour—well, I often wonder what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the stuff they sell."
"Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter—and the Bird is on the Wing."
"Give me wine, for wine is the essence of life, and the antidote to sorrow."
"And those who husbanded the Golden Grain, And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain, Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd As, buried once, Men want dug up again."
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