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The Wish.

1.

Well then; I now do plainly see,
This busie world and I shall ne're agree;
The very Honey of all earthly joy
Does of all meats the soonest cloy,
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And they (methinks) deserve my pity,
Who for it can endure the stings,
The Crowd, and Buz, and Murmurings
Of this great Hive, the City.

2.

Ah, yet, e're I descend to th' Grave
May I a small House, and large Garden have!
And a few Friends, and many Books, both true,
Both wise, and both delightful too!
And since Love ne're will from me flee,
A Mistress moderately fair,
And good as Guardian-Angels are,
Only belov'd, and loving me!

3.

Oh, Fountains, when in you shall I
My self, eas'd of unpeaceful thoughts, espy?
Oh Fields! Oh Woods! when, when shall I be made
The happy Tenant of your shade?
Here's the Spring-head of Pleasures flood;
Where all the Riches lie, that she
Has coyn'd and stampt for good.

4.

Pride and Ambition here,
Only in far fetcht Metaphors appear;
Here nought but winds can hurtful Murmurs scatter,
And nought but Eccho flatter.
The Gods, when they descended, hither
From Heav'en did always chuse their way;
And therefore we may boldly say,
That 'tis the way too thither.

5.

How happy here should I,
And one dear She live, and embr[ac]ing dy?
She who is all the world, and can exclude
In desarts Solitude.
I should have then this only fear,
Lest men, when they my pleasures see,
Should hither throng to live like me,
And so make a City here.
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