WE'LL purge, my friend, the humors that still devour Our life -- the love of money, the love of power. In wisdom let us strive to fashion Souls that are free of the heats of passion. We'll drive out care, be deaf to ambition's call, And learn to live content with our little all. If once the soul win calm of feeling, Surely the body will need no healing. But souls oppressed with hunger of worldly gain Will grow obscure and darken the reason's reign. A little smoke when care doth slacken Quickly sufficeth the house to blacken. Great riches won, and riches to win once more, Are hoards of care on care in a heaped-up store; What end shall serve such toilsome questing, Leaving us never the time for resting? From out my fancy's tablets I'll raze all trace Of this enticing world with its shameless face, To joy of song a free heart bringing Oft as the Muses may ask my singing. Be this the only object of my desire. No more to worldly gain shall my heart aspire Nor vainly be with hope tormented. This is my kingdom -- to live contented. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG [OF DIVINE LOVE] by RICHARD CRASHAW BROTHERS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS ROBERT E. LEE by JULIA WARD HOWE LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM by THOMAS MOORE ON THE DEATH OF A METAPHYSICIAN by GEORGE SANTAYANA PETER QUINCE AT THE CLAVIER by WALLACE STEVENS SONGS OF TRAVEL: 26. IF THIS WERE FAITH by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |