I have sipped, with drooping lashes,
            Dreamy draughts of Verzenay;
        I have flourished brandy-smashes
            In the wildest sort of way;
        I have joked with "Tom and Jerry"
            Till wee hours ayont the twal' - 
        But I've found my tea the very
            Safest tipple of them all!

        'Tis a mystical potation
            That exceeds in warmth of glow
        And divine exhilaration
            All the drugs of long ago - 
        All of old magicians' potions - 
            Of Medea's filtered spells - 
        Or of fabled isles and oceans
            Where the Lotos-eater dwells!

        Though I've reveled o'er late lunches
            With blasé dramatic stars,
        And absorbed their wit and punches
            And the fumes of their cigars - 
        Drank in the latest story,
            With a cock-tail either end, - 
        I have drained a deeper glory
            In a cup of tea, my friend.

        Green, Black, Moyune, Formosa,
            Congou, Amboy, Pingsuey - 
        No odds the name it knows - ah!
            Fill a cup of it for me!
        And, as I clink my china
            Against your goblet's brim,
        My tea in steam shall twine a
            Fragrant laurel round its rim.

More information on James Whitcomb Riley