Song for Punch Drinkers. After Schiller. Punch

Four be the elements,
Here we assemble ’em,
Each of man’s world
And existence an emblem.

Press from the lemon
The slow flowing juices—
Bitter is life
In its lessons and uses.

Bruise the fair sugar lumps—
Nature intended
Her sweet and severe
To be everywhere blended.

Pour the still water—
Unwarning by sound,
Eternity’s ocean
Is hemming us round.

Mingle the spirit,
The life of the bowl—
Man is an earth-clod
Unwarmed by a soul!

Drink of the stream
Ere its potency goes!—
No bath is refreshing
Except while it glows!