Xliv

He made this gracious Earth a hell With Love and Drink. I cannot tell Of which he died. But Death was well.

Will I die of drink? Why not? Won't I pause and think? --What? Why in seeming wise Waste your breath? Everybody dies-- And of death!

Youth--if you find it's youth Too late? Truth--and the back of truth? Straight, Be it love or liquor, What's the odds, So it slide you quicker To the gods?