Not merely foes no longer but fast friends.

What does it mean unless—O strange and new

"Discovery!—this life proves a wine-press—blends

Evil and good, both fruits of Paradise,

Into a novel drink which—who intends

"To quaff, must bear a brain for ecstasies

Attempered, not this all-inadequate

Organ which, quivering within me, dies

"—Nay, lives!—what, how,—too soon, or else too late—