Ode on Solitude

Alexander Pope

1688 to 1744

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Track 1

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Tell where I lie.
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
A few paternal acres bound,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Thus unlamented let me die,
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
With meditation.
Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Together mix'd; sweet recreation;
Quiet by day.
And innocence, which most does please
Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Content to breathe his native air,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Happy the man, whose wish and care
In winter fire.
In his own ground.

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