For some we loved, the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to rest.

Ah, my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clears To-day Past Regrets and Future Fears: To-morrow! - Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Year…

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 -…

And this reviving Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean - Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs…