SOLITUDE

                                                        ALEXANDER POPE 1688-1744

 

 

Happy the man, whose wish and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air

In his own ground:

 

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,

Whose flocks supply him with attire;

Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

In winter fire:

 

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find

Hours, days, and years, slide soft away

In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day:

 

Sound sleep by night; study and ease

Together'mixt, sweet recreation,

And innocence, which most does please

With meditation.

 

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

Thus unlamented let me die;

Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie.