The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.
The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.
Yes, the first morning of creation wrote what the last dawn of reckoning shall read.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly-and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
The value of three things is justly appreciated by all classes of men: youth, by the old; health, by the diseased; and wealth, by the needy.