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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.
Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
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Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
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?
He who has not been at a tavern knows not what a paradise it is.
O holy tavern! O read more
He who has not been at a tavern knows not what a paradise it is.
O holy tavern! O miraculous tavern!--holy, because no carking
cares are there, nor weariness, nor pain; and miraculous, because
of the spits, which themselves turn round and round!
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.
You may go to Carlisle's and to Almanac's too;
And I'll give you my Head if you find such read more
You may go to Carlisle's and to Almanac's too;
And I'll give you my Head if you find such a Host,
For Coffee, Tea, Chocolate, Butter, or Toast;
How he welcomes at once all the World and his Wife,
And how civil to Folks he ne'er saw in his Life.
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.
Whoe'er has travel'd life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think he read more
Whoe'er has travel'd life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think he still has found
The warmest welcome, at an inn.