 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
75
THE TRUE EPICURE.
How saidst thou?—Pleasure: why, my life is pleasure;My days are pleasantness, my nights are peace;
I drink of joys which neither cloy nor cease,
A well that gushes blessings without measure:
Ah, thou hast little heed how rich and glad
How happy is my soul in her full treasure,
How seldom but for honest pity sad,
How constantly at calm!—my very cares
Are sweetness in my cup, as being sent;
And country quiet, and retired leisure
Keep me from half the common fears and snares;
And I have learnt the wisdom of content:
Yea, and to crown the cup of peace with praise
Both God and man have blest my works and ways.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |