And over the old swing gate—
And cried not crack
Till I landed back
In this hub of the Western State.
[194]
]NO MORE VERSES IN PRAISE OF WINE!
No more verses in praise of Wine!
No more gauds for the gods of Woe!
Better by far to sit supine
Watching the current of strong life flow,
Crouched by a hearth where the false fires glow;