The King in a carriage may ride

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness — And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

I am all for the short and merry life.

Whether we wake or we sleep, Whether we carol or weep, The Sun with his Planets in chime, Marketh the going of Time.

Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say; Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?

If you can prove to me that one miracle took place, I will believe that he is a just God who damned us all because a woman ate an apple

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness — Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!