'Tis true I love good company
And there is nothing that I prize
At times more highly than to be
With them, the witty and the wise.

Nor grave high-brows would I despise,
If so my humor chanced to be;
Yet sometimes something in me cries:
"I am my own best company!"

I love good company; yea, all,
The poet, sage, philosopher,
Each in his turn hath held me thrall
And I asked nothing goodlier.

And yet a soul-rebellious stir
Sometimes will rise and master me.
Far from them all, would that I were!
"I am my own best company!"

I love good company; I yield
Myself completely to my books.
Often I wander far a-field
With them, cloth-bound or rich de luxe

And yet betimes my spirit brooks
No charm of prose or poesy.
I turn and flee their very looks:
"I am my own best company!"

ENVOI

My best beloveds, blame me not,
When from your presences I flee
To some near, dear, secluded spot:
"I am my own best company!"