I sit before the firelight's glow
With all the world in apogee,
And con good Master Florio
With pipe a-light; and as I see
Queen Bess herself with book a-knee,
Reading it o'er and o'er again,
Here, 'neath my cosy mantel-tree,
I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.
Now howls the wind and drives the snow;
The traveler shivers on the lea;
While, with my precious folio,
Behold a happy devotee
To book and warmth and reverie!
The blast upon the window-pane
Disturbs me not, as trouble-free,
I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.
I am content, and thus I know
A mind as calm as summer sea, -
A heart that stranger is to woe.
To happiness I hold the key
In this rare, sweet philosophy;
And while the Fates so fair ordain,
Well pleased with Destiny's decree,
I smoke my pipe and read Montaigne.
ENVOY
Dear Prince! aye, more than prince to me,
Thou monarch of immortal reign!
Always thy subject I would be,
And smoke my pipe and read Montaigne!