You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
I made a Second Marriage in my house;
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
For “IS” and “IS-NOT” though with Rule and Line,
And “UP-AND-DOWN” by Logic I define,*
Of all that one should care to fathom, I
Was never deep in anything but — Wine.
Ah, but my Computations, People say,
Reduced the Year to better reckoning? — Nay,
’T was only striking from the Calendar
Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and ’t was — the Grape!