For the smile of the common skies:
My feet, that inlaid courts forego,
Lanes of the dusty city know;
I jest among the bronzéd slaves,
And am well met with merry knaves,
And quaft poor drink, and feel it glow;
Steep me in simple weal and woe;
Yea, learn to swim in those dim waves
That, my palace flight before,
Fawning fall with plausive roar.