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 Strange in this wicked world how hard to find

A fellow-soul to honest sin inclined;

Sinners at home are always saints abroad,

The rose must never dare to speak its mind!

Let us at least who think the Rose is best

Not, paltry, lie about it like the rest,

But lift our glasses frankly in the sun,

And take our loves as frankly to our breast.

Here is the creed of Omar: I believe

In wine and roses, also I believe

In woman (what a foolish thing to do!)

And in the God that made them I believe.

God gave me eyesight—shall I rob my eyes?

He gave me smell—instead of merchandise;

Members and senses delicate to feed—

Who bids me starve them God himself denies.