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Ode on Solitude - a poem by Alexander Pope


I. 
How happy he, who free from care 
The rage of courts, and noise of towns; 
Contented breathes his native air, 
In his own grounds. 

II. 
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 
Whose flocks supply him with attire, 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter fire. 

III. 
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find 
Hours, days, and years slide swift away, 
In health of body, peace of mind, 
Quiet by day, 

IV. 
Sound sleep by night; study and ease 
Together mix'd; sweet recreation, 
And innocence, which most does please, 
With meditation. 

V. 
Thus let me live, unheard, unknown; 
Thus unlamented let me die; 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 
Tell where I lie.


Ode on Solitude
- a poem by Alexander Pope

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