Written January 1718 in the Chiosk at Pera, overlooking Constantinople
Give me Great God (said I) a Little Farm
in Summer shady, & in Winter warm
where a cool spring gives birth to a clear brook
by Nature slideing down a mossy Rock
Not artfully in Leaden Pipes convey'd
Or greatly falling in a forc'd Cascade
Pure & unsully'd winding throu' ye Shade.
All bounteous Heaven has added to my Praier
a softer Climate and a purer Air.
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A STATESMAN is an easy man,
He tells his lies by rote;
A journalist makes up his lies
And takes you by the throat;
So stay at home' and drink your beer
And let the neighbours' vote,
Said the man in the golden breastplate
Under the old stone Cross.
See the seals swimming away
The little foxes as happy as ady
The baby birds flying above
The lions resting with their cubs
The animals seem all so free
untill the humans kill as much as can be
why all this cruelty can't it stop
What have they done, what is up?
A week ago; only a little week:
it seems so much much longer, though that day
is every morning still my yesterday;
as all my life 'twill be my yesterday,
for all my life is morrow to my love.
Oh fortunate morrow! Oh sweet happy love!
A week ago; and I am almost glad
to have him now gone for this little while,
that I may think of him and tell myself
When you look at me
My heart jumps a beat,
And I wonder
With deep impassioned thunders
Overflowing my mind
Making me bind
Is it real or I'm blind?
Cozy, snuggly, curled up tight
People think I'm sleeping, but that is far from being right,
With one eye open, the other tightly shut
I plough the very trade refined by every cat.
Quiet adoration amongst the whispered sighs
For this wonderful creation, nature's wily prize.
And all the while I'm lounging, perched upon my throne
Surveying my domain from this place I call home.
I'm fed and duly watered, patted when I wish,
My life a constant slumber, something I call Bliss,
I empty my pockets and remove my shoes
Becoming weightless in a saturated world.
Floating skyward with no control,
Looking down on the little people
Driving their little cars
Living their little lives.
Everlasting, the little Earth carries on.
At 22:00 she would come out looking
Would call out his name
and eventually find him by the
sandbox or the slide
and would dust him off a bit
and take him home
and feed him
As she’d put him to bed
All are wanted it self...
Nothing to think...
In every where...
Love also it self...
That is life for Today
This is for life?
Go away for all
Wanted each every one