And there are those whom banquets please,
And masques and revelry by night.
Such gauds are wearisome to me;
And wilder lures of dice or drink
Attract me not; my maddest glee
Is to sit still and think.
I think and think; the world grows less,
And Budgets seem but worthless toys;
For I am lost in happiness,
In my ecstatic joy of joys.