Temperance: A Tract for the Times

BOB CHANLER. IN MEMORIAM pintoris egregii amici dilectissimi. “TRINC.” Alcofribas Nasier Oh let us bathe and crown our hair And drink untempered wine! Let ever greater cups ensnare Our souls in traps divine. Soon calms the season of love’s rage, And joy grows short of breath; Birth shoots a shaft, weighed down by age, That strikes the target, death. Then come, thou golden goblet brimmed With lust! Though all be vain, There’s hope for us, the lion-limbed, In hashish and cocaine. Though death should hale us by the scruff Of neck to’s mouldy portal, To-night let us get drunk enough To know we are immortal!