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A revel for mad zephyr lips,
A soft eternity of sips:
I will no sweet of mine detain;
But wholly be to them a prey,
Used lavishly or cast away
For the whole rout of them to drain.
Or I will give myself to make
Sport for the green gods of the lake;
—All fierce are they with foamy breath,
And rainbow eyes, and watery souls,
Quaint things, half deity, half snake;
—O, I shall lay me in the shoals
Of waves: or any way get Death!—
So I shall rid myself from thee,
Apollo!—So at length be free!
