Solitude

"Happy the man, whose wish and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breath his native air

In his own ground:

Whose herds with milk, whose field with bread

Whose flock supply him with attire;

Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

In winter fire:

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find

Hours, days, and years, slide soft away

In health of body, peace of mind,

Quuiet by day:

Sound sleep by night; study and ease

Together mixt, sweet recreation,

Which does most please

With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

Thus unlamented let me die;

Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie."

-Alexander Pope

Kattie, Dawn, Glenn-Riverside, Ca. cira 1965