Through those old Grounds of memory

Through those old Grounds of memory,

The sauntering alone

Is a divine intemperance

A prudent man would shun.

Of liquors that are vended

'Tis easy to beware

But statutes do not meddle

With the internal bar.

Pernicious as the sunset

Permitting to pursue

But impotent to gather,

The tranquil perfidy

Alloys our firmer moments

With that severest gold

Convenient to the longing

But otherwise withheld.