Happy were he could finish forth his fate In some unhaunted desert, most obscure From all societies, from love and hate Of worldly folk; then might be sleep secure; Then wake again, and give God ever praise, Content with hips and haws and bramble-berry; In contemplation spending all his days, And change of holy thoughts to make him merry; Where, when he dies, his tomb may be a bush, Where harmless robin dwells with gentle thrush. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MY GRANDMOTHER; SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE BY MR. ROMNEY by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON IKE WALTON'S PRAYER by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY AUTUMN; WRITTEN IN THE GROUNDS OF MARTIN COLE, ESQ. by BERNARD BARTON THE OLD THIRTEEN by CHARLES TIMOTHY BROOKS THE DOCTOR by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN TO MY HONOURED FRIEND MR. DRAYTON; AFFIXED TO 'POLYOLBION' by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE BATTLE OF CHARLESTOWN by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL |