Poem by William Ernest Henley

To F. W.

Let us be drunk, and for a while forget,
Forget, and, ceasing even from regret,
Live without reason and despite of rhyme,
As in a dream preposterous and sublime,
Where place and hour and means for once are met.

Where is the use of effort? Love and debt
And disappointment have us in a net.
Let us break out, and taste the morning prime . . .
Let us be drunk.

In vain our little hour we strut and fret,
And mouth our wretched parts as for a bet:
We cannot please the tragicaster Time.
To gain the crystal sphere, the silver dime,
Where Sympathy sits dimpling on us yet,
Let us be drunk! 

1. Echoes. 12. To Me at My Fifth-Floor Window
2. In Hospital. 22. Pastoral
3. In Hospital. 12. Etching
4. Echoes. 44. If It Should Come to Be
5. Echoes. 21. We Flash across the Level

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