I AM content, I do not care,
Wag as it will the world for me;
When fuss and fret was all my fare,
It got no ground as I could see.
So when away my caring went,
I counted cost and was content.
With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek what ancient sages sought,
Physic and food in sour and sweet:
To take what passes in good part,
And keep the hiccups from the heart.
With good and gentle-humour'd hearts,
I choose to chat where'er I come,
Whate'er the subject be that starts;
But if I get among the glum,
I hold my tongue to tell the truth,
And keep my breath to cool my broth.
For chance or change of peace or pain, For Fortune's favour or her frown, For lack or glut, for loss or gain,
I never dodge, nor up nor down; But swing what way the ship shall swim, Or tack about with equal trim..
I suit not where I shall not speed,
Nor trace the turn of every tide ;
If simple sense will not succeed,
I make no bustling, but abide :
For shining wealth, or scaring woe,
I force no friend, I fear no foe.
Of ups and downs, of ins and outs,
Of they're i' the wrong, and we're i' the right, I shun the rancours and the routs;
And wishing well to every wight,
Whatever turn the matter takes,
I deem it all but ducks and drakes.
With whom I feast I do not fawn,
Nor if the folks should flout me, faint;
If wonted welcome be withdrawn,
I cook no kind of a complaint:
With none disposed to disagree,
But like them best who best like me.
Not that I rate myself the rule
How all my betters should behave,
But fame shall find me no man's fool,
Nor to a set of men a slave :
I love a friendship free and frank,
And hate to hang upon a hank.
Fond of a true and trusty tie,
I never loose where'er I link; Though if a business budges by, I talk thereon just as I think;
My word, my work, my heart, my hand,
Still on a side together stand.
If names or notions make a noise,
Whatever hap the question hath,
The point impartially I poise,
And read or write, but without wrath;
For should I burn or break my brains,
Pray, who will pay me for my pains?
I love my neighbour as myself,
Myself like him too, by his leave; Nor to his pleasure, power, or pelf,
Came I to crouch, as I conceive: Dame Nature doubtless has design'd A man the monarch of his mind.
Now taste and try this temper, sirs,
Mood it and brood it in your breast;
Or if ye ween, for worldly stirs,
That man does right to mar his rest,
Let me be deft and debonair,
I am content, I do not care.
O SILVERY streamlet of the fields,
That flowest full and free!
For thee the rains of spring return,
The summer dews for thee;
And when thy latest blossoms die
In autumn's chilly showers,
The winter fountains gush for thee,
Till May brings back the flowers.
O Stream of Life! the violet springs
But once beside thy bed;
But one brief summer, on thy path,
The dews of heaven are shed.
Thy parent fountains shrink away,
And close their crystal veins,
And where thy glittering current flow'd,
The dust alone remains.
FULL many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace :
Even so my sun one early morn did shine,
With all-triumphant splendour on my brow;
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
Yet him for this my love nowise disdaineth;
Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun
staineth.
W. SHAKSPEARE, 1564-1616.
YE toil'd ones who sigh for the down and the roses, While ye march to the beat of the drum,
And deem that, when life's measured drudgery closes, A long taskless Sabbath shall come;
I tell ye, in vain
Ye sigh and complain,
The disease and the cure are both whims of the brain;
All things by deep labour are stirr'd;
Work away! work away! work away!
So cries the American bird.
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