_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?