Posted: 5/1/2015 9:35:51 PM EDT
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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 unconcern'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 mix'd; 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 lye. - Alexander Pope My Dad shared this with his co-workers when he retired from town back to the country; I shared it with my unit at my retirement ceremony before moving back to the country. I thought maybe y'all would enjoy it, too. |
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Quoted:
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 unconcern'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 mix'd; 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 lye. - Alexander Pope My Dad shared this with his co-workers when he retired from town back to the country; I shared it with my unit at my retirement ceremony before moving back to the country. I thought maybe y'all would enjoy it, too. That's a great poem. And when you grew up that way, it's hard to not yearn for that forever. |