In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures Than I began to think of rhymes and measures: The air that floated by me seem'd to say 'Write! thou wilt never have a better day.
Dancing music, music sad, Both together, sane and mad.
What is more gentle than a wind is summer?
A quote about drinking is a joy forever
The world is too brutal for me-I am glad there is such a thing as the grave-I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.