"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.

 Honors 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; 't is 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.

 I would not have the horse I drive
 So fast that folks must stop and stare;
 An easy gait--two forty-five--
 Suits me; I do not care;--
 Perhaps, for just a single spurt,
 Some seconds less would do no hurt.

 Of pictures, I should like to own
 Titians aud Raphaels three or four,--
 I love so much their style and tone,
 One Turner, and no more,
 (A landscape,--foreground golden dirt,--
 The sunshine painted with a squirt.)

 Of books but few,--some fifty score
 For daily use, and bound for wear;
 The rest upon an upper floor;--
 Some little luxury there
 Of red morocco's gilded gleam
 And vellum rich as country cream.

 Busts, cameos, gems,--such things as these,
 Which others often show for pride,
 I value for their power to please,
 And selfish churls deride;--
 One Stradivarius, I confess,
 Two Meerschaums, I would fain possess.

 Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,
 Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;--
 Shall not carved tables serve my turn,
 But all must be of buhl?
 Give grasping pomp its double share,--
 I ask but one recumbent chair.

 Thus humble let me live and die,
 Nor long for Midas'golden touch;
 If Heaven more generous gifts deny,
 I shall not miss them much,--
 Too grateful for the blessing lent
 Of simple tastes and mind content!