Is like those men who builded Noah’s ark,
But sank, themselves, beneath the waters dark.
THE IMPOSSIBILITY.
When I shall see, though clad in gold or silk,
In peace and joy a wicked man or maid,
I then shall drink a bowl of pigeon’s milk,
And eat the yellow eggs the ox has laid.
THE SOBER DRUNKENNESS.
Beware the deadly fumes of that insane elation
Which rises from the cup of mad impiety,