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From the 'Deserted Village'

In all my wanderings round this world of care,

In all my griefs—and God has given my share—

I still had hopes my later hours to crown,

Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;

To husband out life's taper at the close

And keep the flame from wasting by repose;

I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,

Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill,

Around my fire an evening group to draw,

And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;

And, as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue,

Pants to the place from whence at first he flew,

I still had hopes, my long vexations past,

Here to return—and die at home at last.

Oliver Goldsmith