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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.