Solitude: An Odeby Alexander Pope
Original Language English
How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Contented breathes his native air,
In his own grounds.
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 swift away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
Thus let me live, unheard, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me dye;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lye.
|-- from The Poems of Alexander Pope, by Alexander Pope / Edited by John Butt|
|The Poems of Alexander Pope||Essay on Man and Other Poems: (Dover Thrift Editions)||Alexander Pope: Selected Poetry||Alexander Pope||The Complete Critical Guide to Alexander Pope|
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