The Stoicks thinke, (and they come neere the truth,) That vertue is the chiefest good of all, The Academicks on Idea call. The Epicures in pleasure spend their youth, The Perrepatetickes iudge felicitie, To be the chiefest good above all other, One man, thinks this: and that conceaves another: So that in one thing very few agree. Let Stoicks have their Vertue if they will, And all the rest their chiefe-supposed good, Let cruell Martialists delight in blood, And Mysers ioy their bags with gold to fill: My chiefest good, my chiefe felicity, Is to be gazing on my loves faire eie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON JULIA'S VOICE by ROBERT HERRICK THE GROVES OF BLARNEY by RICHARD ALFRED MILLIKIN A DAY: AN EPISTLE TO JOHN WILKES, OF AYLESBURY, ESQ. by JOHN ARMSTRONG COWBOY'S COMPLAINT by SQUIRE OMAR BARKER PSALM 89 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE MARCH BEE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |