Wine, Like The Rising Sun, Possession Gains,

Circles In Water As They Wider Flow The Less Conspicuous In Their Progress Grow, And When At Last They Trench Upon The Shore, Distinction Ceases And They're View'd No More.

Hence, In These Times, Untouch'd The Pages Lie, And Slumber Out Their Immortality.

There Is No Mind So Weak And Powerless As Not To Have Its Inclinations, And None So Guarded As To Be Without Its Prepossessions.

Genius! Thou Gift Of Heav'n! Thou Light Divine! Amid What Dangers Art Thou Doom'd To Shine! Oft Will The Body's Weakness Check Thy Force, Oft Damp Thy Vigour, And Impede Thy Course; And Trembling Nerves Compel Thee To Restrain Thy Noble Efforts, To Contend With Pain; Or Want (sad Guest!) Will In Thy Presence Come, And Breathe Around Her Melancholy Gloom: To Life's Low Cares Will Thy Proud Thought Confine, And Make Her Sufferings, Her Impatience, Thine.

Against Her Foes Religion Well Defends Her Sacred Truths, But Often Fears Her Friends.