11 Deadly Gins
E.C. swears they weren’t doubles. His bio is over there.
‘Cause 7 isn’t enough.
And the title “7 Deadly Gins” is already in use.
And because we really need to use all of those olives and limes.
(The limes more quickly than the olives).
And because the quinine will help prevent malaria.
(The bane of poets and popes.)
But it won’t help prevent the descent into sin.
(So will it be tonic or indulgences?)
“The pitfall nor the gin.”
I am not of this people or this age
One too like thee – tameless, and swift, and proud.
And which have still been subject for the rage.
In my mind’s eye a Temple, like a cloud
For ever panting, and for ever young;
I am the dawn, the day, the hiding shroud
You say, as I have often given tongue
To claim our just inheritance of old
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun
Not with a bang, but a whimper (all told)
The boxtree, or the asshen dede and colde.
Lines 12 and 13 have been omitted out of respect.
(And because unlike eleven, neither twelve nor thirteen rhymes with seven).
14. The imperfect health of soul, that is to say, the imperfect love, of the dying brings with it, of necessity, great fear; and the smaller the love, the greater is the fear.
15. This fear and horror is sufficient of itself alone (to say nothing of other things) to constitute the penalty of purgatory, since it is very near to the horror of despair.