The Quiet Life
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 inconcern'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.
by Alexander Pope (1688 - 1744)
I can almost see the old farmers from James Herriot's books in that. Theirs was a hard life but so beautifully simple.
ReplyDeleteI must admit to being rather uneducated and unread in all forms of poetry, but this poem is really wonderful. Together with the painting it created a scene in my mind of simple pleasures and tranquility of mind, body and spirit.
ReplyDeleteThanks for educating me, Lou.
No worries Tim (that's antipodean for "You're welcome").
ReplyDeleteMakes me feel warm and summery and slightly scratchy from lying in the long grass :-)
Happy the man - woman, too - who is indeed happy with just that, and not always striving for more, more, more!
ReplyDeleteIt's lovely!
ReplyDeleteLou, in case you're wondering. Yes, I had to look up the word, antipodean. My oh my, class is certainly in session today. lol
ReplyDeleteAnd no, I don't mind at all. I love to learn new things and enjoy being challenged. :)