The atmosphere
Breathes rest and comfort and the many chambers
Seem full of welcomes.

The atmosphere
Breathes rest and comfort and the many chambers
Seem full of welcomes.

Where'er his fancy bids him roam,
In ev'ry Inn he finds a home--
. . . .
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Where'er his fancy bids him roam,
In ev'ry Inn he finds a home--
. . . .
Will not an Inn his cares beguile,
Where on each face he sees a smile?

Where you have friends you should not go to inns.

Where you have friends you should not go to inns.

Along the varying road of life,
In calm content, in toil or strife,
At morn or noon, read more

Along the varying road of life,
In calm content, in toil or strife,
At morn or noon, by night or day,
As time conducts him on his way,
How oft doth man, by care oppressed,
Find in an Inn a place of rest.

Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket
picked?

Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket
picked?

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.
Now spurs the lated traveller apace
To gain read more

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.
Now spurs the lated traveller apace
To gain the timely inn, and near approaches
The subject of our watch.

In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung.

In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung.

Now musing o'er the changing scene
Farmers behind the tavern screen
Collect; with elbows idly press'd
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Now musing o'er the changing scene
Farmers behind the tavern screen
Collect; with elbows idly press'd
On hob, reclines the corner's guest,
Reading the news to mark again
The bankrupt lists or price of grain.
Puffing the while his red-tipt pipe
He dreams o'er troubles nearly ripe,
Yet, winter's leisure to regale,
Hopes better times, and sips his ale.

What care if the day
Be turned to gray,
What care if the night come soon!
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What care if the day
Be turned to gray,
What care if the night come soon!
We may choose the pace
Who bow for grace,
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.