Drunk

Some fellows get drunk on the red, red wine,

     Aye, red as the blush of morn;

And some desire the strength and fire

That drips from the rye or corn.

And some get drunk on the lust for gold,

     And soak in the slums of trade;

And some fall prey, aye, and well they may,

     To the eyes of a fair young maid.

I like to get drunk, and I often do,

     On the wine of the waking day;

And I like to drink of the bobolink

     And thrush in his roundelay.

Aye, I like to soak in the song of birds,              streams of Pan (pub.)  

     And reel neath the moon and star;

And I like to stand with a gla^ss in my hand,

     A drunkard at Nature's bar!

April 7, ‘10

                                                            From the Boston Herald

April 8th 1910