I call myself a Tranquilist; <br />With deep detachment I exist, <br /> From friction free; <br />While others court the gilded throng <br />And worship Women, Wine and Song, <br /> I scorn the three. <br />For I have reached the sober age <br />When I prefer to turn a page <br /> Beside the fire, <br />And from the busy mart of men <br />To meditative book and pen <br /> With grace retire. <br /> <br />If you are craving peace of mind, <br />In Tranquilism you will find <br /> Philosophy; <br />Serenely fold your hands and wait <br />Be cloistered calm whatever fate <br /> The Gods decree. <br />And though the world with rage be rent, <br />Hold it remote and claim content <br /> With quiet heart; <br />You can't do much to better it, <br />But your good-will may help a bit, <br /> Ere you depart. <br /> <br />So let us who are old and sere <br />To din of battle shut the ear, <br /> And trumpet vain; <br />And though in no monastic mood <br />Accept the balm of solitude <br /> And grace regain. <br />Let us be Tranquilists and try <br />In placid places to apply <br /> Life's wisdom won; <br />In Nature's bounty we may bless <br />The Gods and wait with thankfulness <br /> Our setting sun.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tranquilism/
