Forlorn ! The very word is like a bell - To toll me back from thee to my sole self ! Adieu ! The fancy cannot cheat so well - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf...

O, for a draught of vintage !
That hath been Cooled a long age
in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora Lavendel and the country green,
Dance, and song from a Fado singer,
and sunburn mirth !
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim...