Page:The Sad Years.djvu/82



HEN I was a merry young fellow I loved the red juice of the grape. I would drink till I grew gay and mellow, From Morpheus I could not escape.

I would give myself freely to slumber Nor feared to go lonely to sleep, I was lost for dark hours without number My soul to oblivion would creep.

Then why do I now shake and tremble As death comes to bid me lie still, In a silence that sleep doth resemble Who sought such a slumber at will?

Then death be your cup but the stronger, For why should I fear me to sleep? For I shall but slumber the longer And drink but a little more deep. [74]