noon
So I cry ` a poet ! a poet ! I met a poet ! He came stumbling out of the third wineshop at high noon , looked up with his moist , drunken eyes at the sun , and cried , in his inspiration `` Oh , sweet , gentle moon , how fall thy rays upon my heart , illumining , in marvellous sort , that universe which lives and moves within this soul of mine . Lead on before me , thou brave luminary , that I may steer my course to where experience of life and knowledge of mankind stream towards my ken , in rich abundance , for advantageous employment ! Character-studies , lifelike drawing -- not possible without living models ! Glorious drink !