Happy the man, whose wish and care <br />A few paternal acres bound, <br />Content to breathe his native air <br /> In his own ground. <br /> <br />Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, <br />Whose flocks supply him with attire; <br />Whose trees in summer yield shade, <br /> In winter, fire. <br /> <br />Blest, who can unconcern'dly find <br />Hours, days, and years, slide soft away <br />In health of body, peace of mind, <br /> Quiet by day. <br /> <br />Sound sleep by night; study and ease <br />Together mixed; sweet recreation, <br />And innocence, which most does please <br /> With meditation. <br /> <br />Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; <br />Thus unlamented let me die; <br />Steal from the world, and not a stone <br /> Tell where I lie.<br /><br />Alexander Pope<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/solitude-2/
