THE man of life upright, Whose guiltless heart is free From all dishonest deeds, Or thought of vanity; The man whose silent days In harmless joys are spent, Whom hopes cannot delude, Nor sorrow discontent; That man needs neither towers Nor armour for defence, Nor secret vaults to fly From thunder's violence: He only can behold With unaffrighted eyes The horrors of the deep And terrors of the skies. Thus, scorning all the cares That fate or fortune brings, He makes the heaven his book, His wisdom heavenly things; Good thoughts his only friends, His wealth a well-spent age, The earth his sober inn And quiet pilgrimage. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH PENETRANT by CONRAD AIKEN THE SMALLISH SON by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE MOTHER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EARTH IS ENOUGH by EDWIN MARKHAM BETRAND AND GOURGAUD TALK OVER OLD TIMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS GOLDWING MOTH by CARL SANDBURG LETTERS TO DEAD IMAGISTS by CARL SANDBURG |