From the Court to the Cottage convey me away, For I'm weary of grandeur and what they call "gay," Where pride without measure, And pomp without pleasure, Make life, in a circle of hurry, decay. Far remote and retired from the noise of the Town,— I'll exchange my brocade for a plain russet gown. My friends shall be few, But well chosen and true, And sweet recreation our evening shall crown. With a rural repast, a rich banquet to me, On a mossy green bank, near some shady old tree, The river's clear brink Shall afford me my drink; And Temp'rance my friendly physician shall be. Ever calm and serene, with contentment still blest, Not too giddy with joy, or with sorrow deprest, I'll neither invoke Nor repine at Death's stroke, But retire from the world as I would to my rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VALLEY OF FERN: PART 1 by BERNARD BARTON CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 9. OF HUMILITY by WILLIAM BASSE LOVE'S ARROW POISONED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SAVANNAH by ALETHEA S. BURROUGHS NATURE'S WORD by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: WEDNESDAY by JOHN BYROM ON GETTING HOME THE PORTRAIT OF A FEMALE CHILD; BY EUGENIO LATILLA by THOMAS CAMPBELL |