the thirsty earth soaks up the rain
and drinks, and gapes for drink again.
the plants suck in the earth, and are
with constant drinking fresh and fair;
the sea itself - which one would think
should have but little need for drink -
drinks ten thousand rivers up,
so filled that they o'erflow the cup.
the busy sun - and one would guess
by's drunken fiery face no less -
drinks up the sea, and when he's done,
the moon and stars drink up the sun.
they drink and dance by their own light,
they drink and revel all the night.
nothing in nature's sober found,
but an eternal health goes around.
fill up the bowl then, fill it high,
fill up the glasses there; for why
should every creature drink but i;
why, man of morals, tell me why?
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