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?
Wo n'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?