If I Don't Enjoy Myself Now, When

Into This Universe, And Why Not Knowing Nor Whence, Like Water Willy-nilly Flowing; And Out Of It, As Wind Along The Wate, I Know Not Whither, Willy-nilly Blowing.

The Stars Are Setting And The Caravan Starts For The Dawn Of Nothing-oh, Make Haste!

Drink! For You Know Not Whence You Came Nor Why.

Come, Fill The Cup, And In The Fire Of Spring The Winter Garment Of Repentance Fling: The Bird Of Time Has But A Little Way To Fly-and Lo! The Bird Is On The Wing.

And This I Know; Whether The One True Light Kindle To Love, Or Wrath Consume Me Quite, One Flash Of It Within The Tavern Caught Better Than In The Temple Lost Outright.