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CARES
Not in Water or in Wine
Can I drown these cares of mine.
But some day, for good and sure,
I shall bury them secure,
Where the soil is rich and brown,
With a stone to keep them down,
And to let their end be known,
Have my name carved on the stone;
So that passers-by may say,
“Here lie cares that had their day,”
And sometimes by moonlight wan,
I may sit that stone upon —
With a spectre's solemn phlegm —
In my shroud, and laugh at them;
Or — who knows, when all is said? —
Maybe weep because they're dead.
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