All men who fain would pass their days
Amid old books and quiet ways,
Quaint thoughts and autumn's mellow haze,
The uses of tranquillity—
The peace you love be with your souls!
Come, fill we up our brown pipe-bowls,
And discourse to the bickering coals
Of kindness and civility.
Sirs, you remember Omar's choice—
Wine, verses, and his lady's voice