"Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane, The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again: How oft hereafter rising shall she look Through this same Garden after me—in vain!"

"And this I know: whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, One Flash of it within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright."

"Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and—sans End!"

"And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in—Yes—Then fancy while thou art, thou art but what Thou shalt be—Nothing—Thou shalt not be less."

"Earth, Air, and Water, and the living Fire, And the two Worlds, and all that they desire, Are but the Forms of one—and that one still The shadow of a Shadow, and a Lie."