Ah, Love, could You and I with him conspire
To Fix this Sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would we not take it all apart, and then
Remodel with no danger of Back-Fire?
Ah, make the most of Time we yet may spend
Before we too, into the Dust descend;
Dust unto Dust. Under the Car to lie,
Sans Coat, sans Breath, sans Temper, and—sans Friend!
And that Reviving Herb, whose Tender Green
Upon the Julep Cup is sometimes seen,