Love is not all: it is not meat nor drinkNor slumber nor a roof against the rain;Nor yet a floating spar to men that sinkAnd rise and sink and rise and sink again;Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;Yet many a man is making friends with deathEven as I speak, for lack of love alone.
Elder ladies, up earlier, had coffee before; For themselves they've prepared now a tasty encore, A concoction from heated, with cream thickened, beer, In which curds, densely floating, of cream cheese appear. For men there's a choice of smoked meats on a platter: There is tongue , savouries, sausage , and half-geese well fattened, All first-rate, all by secret house recipe cured, Long in juniper smoke in the chimney matured, At the end, as the last course, 'zrazy' were served. Thuswise was in the Judge's house breakfast observed.
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