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!

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 s…

Alike for those who for To-day prepare, And those that after some To-morrow stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries 'Fools! your Reward is neither He…

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…