Ode 19
The tippling earth drinks up the dew,
The trees, O tippling earth, drink you;
Neptune drinks air at ev'ry motion,
And Sol drinks Neptune like a potion:
Till madam Luna, for a light,
Drinks up old Sol himself at night!
Why then d'ye hinder me from drinking,
When Heav'n itself's my way of thinking?
The trees, O tippling earth, drink you;
Neptune drinks air at ev'ry motion,
And Sol drinks Neptune like a potion:
Till madam Luna, for a light,
Drinks up old Sol himself at night!
Why then d'ye hinder me from drinking,
When Heav'n itself's my way of thinking?
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