Contentment
“MAN WANTS BUT LITTLE HERE BELOW”
LITTLE I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone
(A very plain brown stone will do)
That I may call my own;
And close at hand is such a one,
In yonder street that fronts the sun.
Plain food is quite enough for me;
Three courses are as good as ten;
If Nature can subsist on three,
Thank Heaven for three—Amen!
I always thought cold victual nice—
My choice would be vanilla-ice.
I care not much for gold or land;
Give me a mortgage here and there,
Some good bank-stock, some note of hand,
Or trifling railroad share.
I only ask that Fortune send
A little more than I shall spend.
Honours are silly toys, I know,
And titles are but empty names;
I would, perhaps, be Plenipo—
But only near St. James;
I’m very sure I should not care
To fill our Gubernator’s chair.
Jewels are baubles; ’tis a sin
To care for such unfruitful things;
One good-sized diamond in a pin,
Some, not so large, in rings,
A ruby, and a pearl or so,
Will do for me; I laugh at show.
My dame should dress in cheap attire
(Good, heavy silks are never dear);
I own, perhaps, I might desire
Some shawls of true Cashmere—
Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.
Wealth’s wasteful tricks I will not learn,
Nor ape the glitt’ring upstart fool;
Shall not carved tables serve my turn,
But all must be of buhl?
Give grasping pomp its double care—
I ask but one recumbent chair.
Thus humble let me live and die,
Nor long for Midas’ golden touch;
If Heaven more gen’rous gifts deny,
I shall not miss them much—
Too grateful for the blessing lent
Of simple tastes and mind content!
Oliver Wendell Holmes.