| WELL
then! I now do plainly see |
| This busy world and I shall ne'er agree. |
| The very honey of all earthly joy |
| Does of all meats the soonest cloy; |
| And they, methinks, deserve my pity |
| Who for it can endure the stings, |
| The crowd and buzz and murmurings, |
| Of this great hive, the city. |
| |
| Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave |
|
May I a small house
and large garden have; |
| And a few friends, and many books, both true, |
| Both wise, and both delightful too! |
| And since love ne'er will from me flee, |
| A Mistress moderately fair, |
| And good as guardian angels are, |
| Only beloved and loving me. |
| |
| O fountains! when in you shall I |
| Myself eased of unpeaceful thoughts espy? |
| O fields! O woods! when, when shall I be made |
| Thy happy tenant of your shade? |
| Here 's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood: |
| Here 's wealthy Nature's treasury, |
| Where all the riches lie that she |
| Has coin'd and stamp'd for good. |
| |
| Pride and ambition here |
| Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear; |
| Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs scatter, |
| And nought but Echo flatter. |
| The gods, when they descended, hither |
| From heaven did always choose their way: |
| And therefore we may boldly say |
| That 'tis the way too thither. |
| |
| Hoe happy here should I |
| And one dear She live, and embracing die! |
| She who is all the world, and can exclude |
| In deserts solitude. |
| I should have then this only fear: |
| Lest men, when they my pleasures see, |
| Should hither throng to live like me, |
| And so make a city here. |
