Can’t get rid of me

Just so you didn’t miss me too much while I was away for a few days, I programmed this to publish on Saturday. If you’re reading it then I guess it worked.

I have posted about my favourite poem here previously (a year ago I think) but here it is again for anyone else who might be a fan.  This poem instantly transports me to a fragrant summer’s afternoon; to a calm, more contented place, to simpler times. I guess you could say it’s my happy place. My blog is named after this poem.

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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)

Haystacks by Claude Monet