Do not be distant with me, do not be
Angry because I drank deep of your wine,
But treat that laughing matter laughingly
Because I am a poet, and incline
By nature and by art to jollity.
Always I loved to see, I will aver,
The good red tide lip at the flagon's brim,
Sitting half fool and half philosopher,
Chatting with every kind of her and him,
And shrugged at sneer of money-gatherer.
Often enough I trudge by hedge and wall,
Too often there's no money in my purse,
Nor malice in my mind ever at all,
And for my songs no person is the worse
But I who give all of my store to all.
If busybody spoke to you of it,
Say, kindly man, if kindly man do live:
The poet only takes his sup and bit,
And say: It is no great return to give
For his unstinted gift of verse and wit.