Yield such an Alcohol! Inebriate of Air am I – – And Debauchee of Dew – Reeling summer days – thro’ endless – From inns of Molten Blue – When turn the drunken Bee “Landlords” Out of the door Foxglove’s – When Butterflies renounce their – “drams” – I shall but drink the more! Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats – And Saints to windows run – – To see the little Tippler Leaning against the Sun! – Poem 249 Wild Nights Wild Nights! – Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the Winds – – To a Heart in port – Done with the Compass – Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor Tonight – – In Thee! Poem 280 I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading treading till it seemed – – That Sense was breaking through –
Yield such an Alcohol! Inebriate of Air – am I – And Debauchee of Dew – Reeling – thro’ endless summer days – From inns of Molten Blue – When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee Out of the Foxglove’s door – When Butterflies – renounce their “drams” – I shall but drink the more! Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats – And Saints – to windows run – To see the little Tippler Leaning against the – Sun! Poem 249 Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the Winds – To a Heart in port – Done with the Compass – Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor – Tonight – In Thee! Poem 280 I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading – treading – till it seemed That Sense was breaking through –
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