HAPPY the man whose wish and care
|
|
A few paternal acres bound,
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Content to breathe his native air
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In
his own ground.
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Whose herds with milk, whose
fields with bread,
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Whose flocks supply him with
attire;
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Whose trees in summer yield him
shade,
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In
winter fire.
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Blest who can unconcern'dly find
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Hours, days, and years slide soft
away
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In health of body, peace of mind,
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Quiet
by day,
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Sound sleep by night; study and
ease
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Together mixt, sweet recreation,
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And innocence, which most does
please
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With
meditation.
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Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
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Thus unlamented let me die;
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Steal from the world, and not a
stone
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Tell
where I lie.
|
Alexander Pope
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