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This is no way my learnèd life to use!
Tell me a better, then, that I may choose.
Shall I for some remote imagined gain
My precious little hour of living lose?
Shall I, with such a little hoard to spend,
Waste it to such unprofitable end?
Do as you please who think another way—
For me the wine-cup and a pretty friend.
A book, a woman, and a flask of wine:
The three make heaven for me; it may be thine
Is some sour place of singing cold and bare—
But then, I never said thy heaven was mine.
Lost to a world in which I crave no part,
I sit alone and listen to my heart,
Pleased with my little corner of the earth,
Glad that I came—not sorry to depart.
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