Myself when young did eagerly frequent doctor and saint, and heard great argument about it and about: but evermore came out by the same door as in I went.
When you are so full of sorrow_x000D_ that you can't walk, can't cry anymore,_x000D_ think about the green foliage that sparkles after_x000D_ the rain. When the daylight exhausts you, when_x000D_ you hope a final night will cover the world,_x000D_ think about the awakening of a young child.
Oh! My beloved! fill the cup, that clears to-day of past regrets and future fears.
Itβs too bad if a heart lacks fire,_x000D_ and is deprived of the light _x000D_ of a heart ablaze._x000D_ The day on which you are_x000D_ without passionate love_x000D_ is the most wasted day of your life.
So when that Angel of the darker Drink, at last shall find you by the river-brink,_x000D_ _x000D_ And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul forth to your Lips to quaff-you shall not shrink.
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
So I be written in the Book of Love. I do not care about that Book Above. Erase my name, or write it as you will. So I be written in the Book of Love.
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