Ease Leads To Habit, As

Soldiers In Arms! Defenders Of Our Soil! Who From Destruction Save Us; Who From Spoil Protect The Sons Of Peace, Who Traffic Or Who Toil; Would I Could Duly Praise You, That Each Deed Your Foe's Might Honor, And Your Friends Might Read.

Lo! The Poor Toper Whose Untutored Sense, Sees Bliss In Ale, And Can With Wine Dispense; Whose Head Proud Fancy Never Taught To Steer, Beyond The Muddy Ecstasies Of Beer.

O Days Remember'd Well! Remember'd All! The Bitter Sweet, The Honey And The Gall; Those Garden Rambles In The Silent Night, Those Trees So Shady, And That Moon Se Bright, That Thickset Alley By The Arbor Clos'd, That Woodbine Seat Where We At Last Repos'd; And Then The Hopes That Came And Then Were Gone, Quick As The Clouds Beneath The Moon Past On.

When Winter Stern, His Gloomy Front Uprears, A Sable Void The Barren Earth Appears; The Meads No More Their Former Verdure Boast, Fast-bound Their Streams, And All Their Beauty Lost; The Herds, The Flocks, In Icy Garments Mourn, And Wildly Murmur For The Spring's Return; From Snow-topp'd Hills The Whirlwinds Keenly Blow, Howl Through The Woods, And Pierce The Vales Below, Through The Sharp Air A Flaky Torrent Flies, Mocks The Slow Sight, And Hides The Gloomy Skies.

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