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“Fill the can, and fill the cup :
All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up,
And is lightly laid again.
“ Trooping from their mouldy dens
The chap-fallen circle spreads : Welcome, fellow-citizens,
Hollow hearts and empty heads !
“ You are bones, and what of that?
Every face, however full,
Is but modell’d on a skull.
“Death is king, and Vivat Rex !
Tread a measure on the stones, Madam—if I know your sex,
From the fashion of your bones.
“No, I cannot praise the fire
In your eye-nor yet your lip :
Joints of cunning workmanship.
“Lo! God's likeness—the ground-plan
Neither modell’d, glazed, or framed : Buss me, thou rough sketch of man,
Far too naked to be shamed !
“ Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance,
While we keep a little breath!
Hob-and-nob with brother Death !
“ Thou art mazed, the night is long,
And the longer night is near :
As a bitter jest is dear.
“ Youthful hopes, by scores, to all,
When the locks are crisp and curl'd ;
And my mockeries of the world.
“Fill the cup, and fill the can!
Mingle madness, mingle scorn!
Yet we will not die forlorn." ..
The voice grew faint: there came a further change ;
Another said : “ The crime of sense became
SURE never yet was Antelope
Could skip so lightly by.
Will hit you in the eye.
How fairy-like you fly!
I hate that silly sigh.
Or tell me how to die.
And hang yourself thereby.
Move eastward, happy earth, and leave
Yon orange sunset waning slow : From fringes of the faded eve,
0, happy planet, eastward go; Till over thy dark shoulder glow
Thy silver sister-world, and rise
To glass herself in dewy eyes That watch me from the glen below.
Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne,
Dip forward under starry light, And move me to my marriage-morn,
And round again to happy night.