This long disease, my life.

A youth of frolic, an old age of cards.

Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.

Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise.

The way of the Creative works through change and transformation, so that each thing receives its true nature and destiny and comes into permanent accord with the Great Harmony: this is what furthers and what perseveres.

And make each day a critic on the last.

Wine lets no lover unrewarded go.