Measuring out my life in flagons

(No coffee-spoon to skim the flood)

You were the prince of thirsty dragons,

The gay carouser of my blood:

We could not part, our love was such,

But gasconading, shared the fun

While every cripple’s shouldered crutch

Was sighted at me like a gun.

What sport to-day? to swim or fly?

Or fish for thunder in the sky?

What laughter out of hell to fetch,

Or joy from peril, have you planned,

You sunward rider, that you stretch

The downswung stirrup of my hand?