At morning on the garden seat
I dearly love to drink and eat;
To drink and eat, to drink and sing,
At morning, in the time of spring.
In winter honest men retire
And sup their possets by the fire;
But when the spring comes round again, you see,
The garden breakfast pleases me.
The morning star that melts on high,
The fires that cleanse the changing sky,
The dew and perfumes all declare
It is the hour to banish care.
The air that smells so new and sweet,
All put me in the cue to eat.
A pot at five, a crust at four,
At half past six a pottle more.
Robert Louis Stevenson