On Retirement

Philip Freneau

A hermit’s house beside a stream
    With forests planted round,
Whatever it to you may seem
More real happiness I deem
    Than if I were a monarch crowned.

A cottage I could call my own
    Remote from domes of care;
A little garden, walled with stone,
The wall with ivy overgrown,
    A limpid fountain near,

Would more substantial joys afford,
    More real bliss impart
Than all the wealth that misers hoard,
Than vanquished worlds, or worlds restored—
    Mere cankers of the heart!

Vain, foolish man! how vast thy pride,
    How little can your wants supply!—
’Tis surely wrong to grasp so wide—
You act as if you only had
    To triumph—not to die!

Next 10 Poems

• Philip Freneau : On The Death Of Dr. Benjamin Franklin
• Philip Freneau : On The Universality And Other Attributes Of The God Of Nature
• Philip Freneau : The Indian Burying Ground
• Philip Freneau : The Republican Genius Of Europe
• Philip Freneau : The Vernal Age
• Philip Freneau : The Wild Honey-suckle
• Philip Freneau : To A New England Poet
• Philip Freneau : To Mr. Blanchard, The Celebrated Aeronaut In America
• Philip Freneau : To The Memory Of The Brave Americans
• Robert Frost : A Boundless Moment

Previous 10 Poems

• Philip Freneau : On A Honey Bee
• Philip Freneau : Ode
• Philip Freneau : Emancipation From British Dependence
• John Fletcher : Weep No More
• John Fletcher : Tis Late And Cold
• John Fletcher : Take, Oh Take Those Lips Away
• John Fletcher : Sleep
• John Fletcher : Sing His Praises That Doth Keep
• John Fletcher : Now The Lusty Spring Is Seen
• John Fletcher : Lay A Garland On My Hearse