And Towzer guards at my outer gate
With a sleepless eye and a fang-girt pate,
Cruel and callous and pitiless.
Then, what of a night the more or less?
Come, fill up the glasses from heel to brim!
Till daylight nears and the stars grow dim,
And the new day yawns from its drowsiness.
For lives are merry while hearts are true,
Though the sun may wink through the window pane
And she’ll say “Algernon! drunk again!”