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?

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

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

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.

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?

Where you have friends you should not go to inns.

Where you have friends you should not go to inns.

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.

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.

A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams.

A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams.